Beautiful Sorrow
by DreamOfTheEndless
Summary: Bella worshiped Carlisle, so when he proposed she didn't think twice before accepting. But then she met Edward, her fiancé's half brother & the other part of her soul. Will they be able to survive the consequences of their betrayal?
1. Chapter 1

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

**by**

**DreamOfTheEndless**

Chapter 1

"Bella, breakfast is almost ready! Would you like to come down to the kitchen? Maybe you could help me with the eggs?" Sylvia called out in her typical chirpy, sing-song voice, standing at the bedroom door. She called her 'Bella'. No one else did that in the house. No one other than her husband that is.

She sat by the large bay window, curled up into herself, with her knees close to her chest. She hoped against hope that maybe if she didn't answer, Sylvia would give up and go away. Of course, her hopes were for naught. Sylvia wouldn't leave until she'd made sure Bella had eaten a properly balanced breakfast that was custom made for her body's nutritional needs. That's what she was hired for. Sylvia Cope was her personal, live-in nutritionist. _One of the perks of being married to a rich man_, she thought bitterly.

Surely enough, Sylvia walked into the bedroom a few moments later, "Come on Bella, I made your favorite, bacon and hash browns. You'll like it. Please, just give it a chance," she said with a bright smile, as if she was talking to a child. Bella hated to be treated like that.

_I am not a child! I am __twenty two for god's sake! _

_A __twenty two year old, ex-alcoholic who is incapable of taking care of herself._

She knew Sylvia was only trying to help, that it was her job to make sure she ate at regular intervals so that she wasn't below her minimum acceptable body weight anymore, and more importantly, so that she didn't _look _sosick to the outside world. She really didn't want to embarrass her husband any more than she already had. But these days the idea of sustenance of any kind made her cringe. Food meant a longer existence; an existence she was no longer too keen on. But like every other aspect of her life, she had given up the right to have any say in the matter a long time ago.

Trying to keep her revulsion out of her face, she appealed to Sylvia for leniency, "I'm really not hungry right now; could I please come down in an hour? You made me a really big dinner last night, remember? I'm so full still. Please." She thought reminding Sylvia of the large steak dinner would buy her some time. Not today.

"Bella, that was more than fourteen hours ago. It's almost noon now. If I let you wait any longer, you'll be complaining about lunch. Didn't we agree, no more skipping meals? Please, Bella. I'll eat with you, just come downstairs with me. We will use the sunroom today, what do you say to that?" Sylvia said in a motherly voice.

They'd had a differently worded version of this very same argument nearly every day now for five months. Sylvia never gave an inch. That's why she was so good at what she did. She had an advanced degree in nutrition, and was trained to counsel patients with eating disorders. She'd been persuaded to take an unplanned sojourn from her flourishing practice for an inordinate amount of money to be Bella's personal nutritionist slash caregiver. Though she had the credentials to offer counseling, her work with Bella was strictly limited to nutrition. A therapist, Dr. Angela Weber, came by twice a week to tend to Bella's emotional and addiction issues. The very best money could buy.

_Why check into rehab when rehab can come to you?_

Bella closed her eyes and exhaled in defeat. She got up and walked downstairs with Sylvia.

"Do you want to help with the eggs, Bella? No? Ok, then just go to the sunroom, everything else is served. I will bring over the eggs in a jiffy." Sylvia pushed her gently in the direction of the room while she disappeared in the kitchen with a smile.

Bella made her way to the sunroom, rightfully called for its brightness and light, and took a seat at the table closest to the glass paneled wall. Once upon a time, this was her most favorite part of the house. She could vividly recall the day she'd brought her mother to the house, giving her the grand tour. It was soon after her husband had confessed his love for her. Renee was ecstatic; she took everything in with a glint in her eyes and couldn't stop talking about how happy she was for her daughter's good fortune. She couldn't believe her luck; to be invited into this grand palace as a guest. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Bella's parents lived in a nice ocean-side house in Florida now, courtesy of her husband of course. She hasn't seen them in nearly a year.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sylvia's vivacious voice, "Here you go. Tell me what you think of the hash browns, I tried a secret ingredient. If you can guess what it is, there will be a reward," she said as she sat down the tray with eggs, and made a plate for Bella with all the right picks of food that made her breakfast today. It was part of her techniques, to engage Bella in inane conversations about food, in the hopes that it will trigger an interest in eating. Bella hated these childish ploys and never responded, but it didn't stop Sylvia from trying. She placed the plate in front of Bella before serving herself and sitting down across from her.

"Go ahead, tell me what you think. You have three guesses, and the reward is I won't bother you again until dinner time. That's right, you will get a free pass for lunch today. But only if you can guess it right," Sylvia said with her trademark smile. This was a new bargaining chip. Sylvia never gambled with the main meals. Bella smiled at the thought of how clever and effective the trick was. It succeeded in making her ponder if she'd be able to guess it right and win some alone time for herself that day.

She looked down at her plate and nearly choked. She couldn't bring herself to eat. Not even for the lure of an afternoon to herself, without having Sylvia or Rodney, her personal security detail, trailing her around. At least Rodney never came inside the house. A day without having to fight a battle over a meal would be good.

She didn't know when this shift took place in her; when it was that she stopped feeling hunger pangs. Was it before she'd started drinking? She couldn't be sure. All she ever felt now was empty, but the idea of filling the void with food was unbelievably painful. Food meant a longer life with clearer thoughts, waking up to more days of emptiness, and more nights without _him._ It meant vaster grounds for her guilt-ridden mind to wander and forage for more reminders of how completely she'd destroyed everything.

Noticing her lack of initiative, Sylvia prodded her gently, "Just take a few bites, sweetheart. You're getting healthier every day; you've made so much progress. You need to keep it up, honey. I know you want to get better. You told me so. Bella, you need to eat. Please try."

Bella looked up, silently begging her with lost, sad eyes. She didn't say anything, words were useless. She knew she'd have to give in eventually. Her husband was very clear when Sylvia and Dr. Weber were hired that he expected her to cooperate fully in getting her weight back to normal and quitting alcohol. She of course acquiesced; she'd never disobey him. She just didn't know how to cooperate fully with the therapist when she had to be selective about how much she could share about her personal life. That dilemma aside, she'd done everything he wanted. She hadn't touched alcohol since she had been released from the hospital six months ago, she diligently sat through the twice a week therapy sessions, and ate what Sylvia placed before her, albeit with great degree of reluctance.

Seeing Bella's continued disinclination, Sylvia took a deep breath and shook her head unhappily. She didn't like what she'd have to do now to make Bella eat, but it was the only trick that seemed to persuade her reluctant patient to pick up the spoon at each meal time. "Bella, think about your parents. They miss you, you know. How will you visit them if you don't get better first? And what about your husband? He is so worried about you. He expects to see progress Bella. Do you want him to come home and sit here with you instead of me? Cause you know that will happen. If Mr. Cullen is told that you are refusing food again, he will come and oversee your every meal. Is that what you want?"

Like expected, her words had the desired effect. Bella instantly reached for her the fork and started cutting off pieces of eggs and bacon on her plate. "No, no. Please don't disturb him. I will eat. See, I'm eating," she said as she shoved down the first mouthful.

Sylvia watched her eat while picking at her own plate. It clenched her heart to see the sight before her. Bella's eyes were frantic and brimming with tears. Each spoonful a war waged and each swallow a battle won. Sylvia didn't like how Bella reacted to the prospect of her husband's presence during meal time. She'd come to suspect that there might be something sinister behind the beautiful façade of the loving and concerned husband that Mr. Cullen sported. She of course hadn't seen or heard him ever speak to Bella unkindly, and he was literally spending a fortune to ensure she regained her health, both mentally and physically. Bella herself had never once suggested anything that might imply that she was being held in this relationship against her wishes. Yet, something nagged at her heart. Something wasn't right and she couldn't put her finger on it. She wondered often if the vast age gap between the two could be a contributing factor. She could only hazard guesses, but it bothered her tremendously to see Bella suffer this way. Threat or blackmail might work in the short term, but it wasn't a healthy way to truly help someone who suffered from food issues. It felt like she was causing more harm than good by twisting Bella's hand like that. But it was made abundantly clear to her that her job with Bella was to only make sure she regained her weight in a healthy and steady fashion, by whatever means necessary. She was only answerable to Mr. Cullen, and as long as her weekly reports showed a steady upward progression in Bella's weight chart, there wouldn't be any complains. But she couldn't shake the feeling that what she was doing was wrong. She cared about Bella and she didn't like how forlorn and hopeless she looked most of the time, as if life was a burden that she was being forced to bear.

Bella ate her food with determination. The inherent repulsion her body felt to the process gave her frequent pauses when she had to stop and drink water to wash it down before resuming her meal mechanically. She couldn't taste anything; her taste buds seemed to have gone on a permanent hiatus. If she were blindfolded, would she have been able to tell what she was eating? She doubted it.

Finally, when their meal was over, Sylvia gave her a pat on the shoulder encouragingly, "Good girl! Now that wasn't so bad, was it? Can you tell what I used in the hash brown?"

Bella shook her head. She couldn't even remember what she ate moments ago, let alone how it tasted, even though the reminder sat like a thousand pound boulder in the pit of her stomach. She felt sick and defeated. She didn't like the mental acuity or clarity of recollection that came with a full stomach.

"Come on, just throw out your best guess. What have you got to lose?" Sylvia kept trying to cheer her up.

"I don't know, pepper?" Bella tried half-heartedly.

"That's hardly a secret, but at least you tried. So, guess what? You don't have to beat me off with a stick for lunch. You are off the hook for the rest of the day. We both deserve a break once in a while, don't you think?" Sylvia offered jovially.

Bella's eyes lit up for a moment at the thought before losing the light again. She nodded quietly and whispered, "Thank you."

"What do you say we go for a walk? It's a lovely day out," Sylvia hedged. They both knew that Sylvia was only trying to put a polite spin on her professional responsibility. Bella was not to be left alone for at least two hours after a meal, lest she tried to purge herself. Bella never made herself sick on purpose and Sylvia knew that by now, but she preferred to err on the side of caution. One never knew when a new symptom might manifest itself, especially given how unique Bella's case was, for unlike the majority of the sufferers of anorexia and similar afflictions, body image never played a role in her illness. She never seemed too fixated over how she looked, nor did she ever express any torrid need to be thin. She just didn't seem very interested in eating – or anything else for that matter. Not at all, in fact.

Bella didn't bother to break the illusion. She nodded and accompanied Sylvia silently for a stroll around the estate ground. The house was built on a thousand acre plot, with a hiking trail leading up to a cliff with a spectacular view. They walked together up the trail and when they came to the cliff side, Bella sat down on an outcrop of rocks, looking out to the open ocean.

"How are you Bella?" Sylvia asked meaningfully, as she sat down on a nearby rock. She'd been trying to forge a friendship with Bella for some time now, to get her to trust her. It hadn't been very successful so far but she was nothing if not persistent.

"I'm fine, you take care of me so well," Bella answered with detachment, keeping her eyes trained at the ocean.

"I know you are doing great physically. But how is the girl inside holding up? How are _you _doing? How are things between you and Mr. Cullen?" Sylvia tried again.

"Everything is fine, Sylvia," Bella answered with a little edge to her voice. Sylvia was veering too close to the restricted grounds. Bella wouldn't indulge her curiosities any more than she would if the questions came from a society page reporter – or her therapist even. Her husband valued his privacy dearly. She knew better than to compromise his armor.

"I understand if you don't want to open up to me. I won't pressure you, but Bella, I hope you talk to someone. Talk to Dr. Weber. Don't keep things bottled up, it's not good for you. I know you're hurting inside and…Bella, you can't just fix your body without healing your mind.

"I care about you Bella, I want you to know that. Not just as your nutritionist, but as your friend. Please don't be too proud to accept help," Sylvia said in a somber tone, hoping she was getting through to the younger woman, knowing most likely she wasn't.

Back at the house, Bella spent her day more or less like she had for the last six months: quietly sitting in her room, pretending to read a book, pondering her past and reminiscing the memories of love lost; wondering if her sufferings were suited for her crimes. Had her pound of flesh been exacted yet, or was there still a long way to go? It was with those thoughts that she drifted off to sleep that night.

She woke up in her bed later that night with a distinct feeling that she was no longer alone. She could sense the presence of her husband sitting across the room, watching her from his usual spot. Her breath hitched in fear. He hadn't been to this room in the last six months. She didn't even know where he spent his nights any more. Did she really think he'd leave her to her own devices forever? She was getting better physically, so it was only matter of time before he had returned to punish her for her crimes. She'd been given sufficient time to recuperate. Now it was time to return home, to the hell of her own making.

She trembled in fear, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. She clenched her eyes shut. Maybe she was only imagining his presence. Maybe it was only a nightmare.

_He is not here. He is not here._

"I know you're awake, Isabella." His deep voice shattered all false hope. She opened her eyes and finally looked at him. She could see him from where she lay, sitting in his armchair, as beautiful and regal as he looked the first time she saw him all those years ago. Only his eyes were different. They were dead; completely devoid of any hint of life or hope. They didn't even show any glimmer or anger or rage. Just hard, cold nothingness.

_I did this to him. I made him this way. I deserve all the sufferings __in the world._

She pushed herself off of her bed with shaky limbs and slowly stood up. She pulled down the straps of her cotton night dress over her shoulders and let it slide down her body and pull at her feet. She walked over to stand at the center of the room, right in front of her husband. She knew the drill. She'd gone through this innumerable times since the night of her wedding. For the first time in six months she desperately wished the house hadn't been made alcohol proof. She'd nearly forgotten how much harder it was facing this sober. She longed for the numbing haze intoxication used to give her. But this was her punishment, so maybe she should embrace and accept the added pain the sobriety brought. She deserved nothing less.

She stood before him, naked and ashamed, not knowing how long her husband would see fit to keep her in that spot. It could be anything from five minutes to five hours. It depended on his mood. Her heart beat fast as she fought the urge to bring up her arms to cover her breasts. He'd told her not to do that on their first night together. She was to bare herself completely, so he could see who she really was; as a way to make reparation for misleading him before. It was only fair.

She tried to focus on something mundane in the room to escape what was really happening.

_Maybe __he will only make me recount my crimes; maybe he won't go any further tonight. _

Although, she couldn't be sure if it was any better than the other things she had to endure. Confessing to committing the ultimate act of betrayal with minute details, or accept the violence with which he took from her what he felt was rightfully his. She couldn't be sure which hurt more.

_It doesn't matter; I deserve both._

She didn't know how long he sat there, watching her fidget and tremble. Then he stood up and walked over to where she stood.

_Violence it was._

She took a shaky breath to brace herself, but he didn't make a move to touch her or instruct her to go to the bed. She could smell the alcohol in his breath which made her crave it again. Why wasn't he saying anything, she wondered. She wished he'd get it over with already, one way or the other. This waiting was wearing down her nerves.

Then he spoke, but the words he spoke were not the ones she expected to hear. It left her stunned and shaking.

"Happy birthday, Bella."

Then he was gone.

**A****N: Thank you for reading and giving me a chance. I'd love to hear your thoughts. I'll send out a sneak peek of what happens later in the story to all those who review; not necessarily from the next chapter though. Come find me on twitter if you have any questions, or just want to chat. You can find me at: (at)ToTheDreaming.**

**I can't post this chapter without thanking BellaScotia and mamasutra, my ff ****mentors in this mad, mad world of fic writing. They are brilliant authors and remarkable human beings, and most days I can't believe my luck that they bothered with me at all. Not only did they hold my hand through panic attacks, but BellaScotia preread the stuff that I have written so far. They even got their own crew involved to look over my work (Thank you Mel and Icarus!). I don't have words to thank them properly. Please check out their stories, if you are not reading them already. You can find them here: **

**http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2222553/**

**http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/1861264/**

**I'd like to thank ****lulabelle98, my beta extraordinaire, for cleaning up my mess. I have learned from her that everything I ever knew about comma usage was wrong. I am hoping she will stick around to help me relearn everything. Check out her stories at: ****http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/~lulabelle98****. You can follow her on twitter too: (at)lulabelle98 **

**Sorry about the long AN. I promise to keep a lid on it in the future chapters.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Beautiful Sorrow**

Chapter 2

She was left shaken to the core by her husband's unexpected conduct. She stayed up in bed for the rest of the night, wondering if he'd come back. She'd completely forgotten that it was her birthday. She was twenty three now. Her parents moved away to Florida soon after her wedding. Her birthdays had pretty much gone unnoticed since then. Well, except for the excited phone calls from her mother. Last year she told Renee that her husband was taking her sailing to celebrate the day with her, and the year before she made up something about a big party at the Four Seasons. Renee didn't doubt either story. She wondered if she was getting better at lying, or if it was simply easier to be so convincing over the phone. She was a horrible liar she was told while growing up. Her face was like an open book, her mother had said. She couldn't understand what made her think she'd ever be able to pull off a deception of such a great magnitude when it came to her husband; or why she even tried.

She stayed in bed, curled up in a ball, clutching the covers to her chest. Towards dawn, she was too unsettled to stay in bed any longer. She needed to calm her nerves and there were very few things that could do that for her these days, given how she no longer had access to the wine cellar. She got out of the bed and tiptoed to the door. She plastered her ear on to the hard wood to make sure no one was approaching the room, and then stealthily walked to the closet. There were several shoe boxes lining the bottom of the closet floor. She carefully pulled out the third one from the left. It looked exactly like every other box in her collection; no markings or signs setting it apart from the rest. Clutching the box with shaky hands, she slowly sank down on the floor by the closet. She looked at the door one more time to make sure no one was likely to barge in. Personal privacy was a privilege that she didn't get to enjoy too frequently these days, especially since her hospitalization. She was rarely left by herself and never allowed to lock her door. She let a few more minutes pass just to be sure, then with trembling hands she opened the lid. The box contained a pair of shoes. She took out one shoe and then reached inside its curvature to pull out a small object wrapped in tissue.

_It's still here. Thank god, it's still here. He didn't find it. _

Exhaling a deep breath that she didn't even know she was holding, she began to unfold the delicate wrinkles to reveal what lay within. It was a blue flower made of glass, a replica of the rare Glass Flower collection from the Harvard Museum of Natural History. The tiny replica bought at the museum gift shop was the only article she still had that bore any connection to _him. _The only thing that she secretly held onto, even after surrendering everything else – the letters, notes, pictures. _He_ took her to the museum on their first day at campus, and after showing her around the dark, dusty hallways and archaic exhibits they reached the Glass Flower section that instantly took her breath away. Her childlike reaction amused him and he couldn't help but buy her a small memento from the gift shop on their way out. That was before they became lovers, before they gave in to the visceral draw that pulled them to each other, before they committed the sin that had led them to their current prisons. She carefully picked up the blue piece of glass and held it gently in her palm. Looking at it calmed her and eventually brought a smile to her face. The cool glass was like balm to her frazzled mind. But along with the momentary respite, it brought an onslaught of memories; memories she knew she couldn't afford to dwell on. She closed her eyes and tried to catch glimpses of images flashing through her mind; beautiful long lashes framing the most vivid green eyes, long shapely fingers playing with hers, untamable mane of bronze hair blowing in the wind. Gone forever.

_Please be ok. Wherever you are, please be ok. _

Tears slipped past her eyelids. She didn't try to fight them. A small indulgence she felt she had earned.

She noticed light spilling through the window and decided not to push her luck too far. Wiping the tears off her face, she placed the blue glass flower back inside the shoebox, and put the box back in its place with the others. Making sure the box didn't stand out from the rest in any way, she climbed back into her bed. She closed her eyes and let sleep take her, knowing Sylvia wouldn't let her sleep away the day.

-x-

Sylvia didn't disappoint. Bella woke up to the noise of gentle knocking on her door later in the morning. During their usual morning routine of tug and pull, Bella received the phone call from her mother that she knew would come.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to my precious girl, happy birthday to you!" Bella heard both her parents singing along on the other side. It made her want to cry, it made her want to run to them and ask them to hide her forever. But she recognized the futility of it, so instead she commanded her voice to sound cheery to match her parents' and said, "Aww, Mom! You're blasting my eardrums here. Ease up a little, will ya?"

"How is my precious girl doing today?" Renee asked, with lightness in her voice.

"I'm fine Mom, how are you and Dad doing?" Bella asked, hoping her voice held the same degree of brightness that her mother's did.

"We're great, honey. The sun really suits your dad. I swear Diego is a bad influence! He keeps encouraging your dad to stay out in the sun, but he's doing really well. We were hoping maybe this year you two would spend your birthday with us. I miss you, baby, and so does your dad."

"Ahh… yah, maybe next year. Things are a bit crazy now. And you know how busy Carlisle is; we'll plan something soon, I promise."

"How's Carlisle doing, dear? Where is he? Can we say a quick hello to him? Bet he's got the whole day planned for you. Or is he surprising you this year? That man is a true romantic at heart," Renee said with amusement in her voice. She had been a staunch supporter of Carlisle as her daughter's suitor from the start, even when her husband expressed reservations about the considerable age gap between the two.

"No…I mean he's at work, but I will tell him you called." Bella threw out the standard line that she always used when either Renee or her dad ever wanted to speak with her husband directly.

"On a Sunday?" Renee asked, slightly bewildered.

_Damn! 13 September, 2009, Sunday. How did I miss that? Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Bella had stopped keeping track of days for a while now. Days of the week just blurred together through her indifferent perception. She regretted not preparing herself for the phone call. She knew these matters would come up, yet she walked into the mine field completely unequipped.

She shut her eyes and tried to salvage the situation the best she could, "Ah…yah, you know him Mom, always working. Like I said, it's a bit crazy right now. But he'll be back soon; I don't think he's planning on working the whole day. He just had to wrap up a few time sensitive things. You know…"

Renee was quiet on the other end for a while, then she answered, "I know he's a busy man Bella, but it's your birthday and it's the weekend. He was working on your birthday last year too. Honey, are you sure you are ok? He is taking care of you, right?"

Bella was counting on it that her mother wouldn't remember what she'd told her last year. She herself had forgotten about most of it. She desperately searched her memories to remember the specifics that she gave her mother about last year's celebration.

_What did I say? Sailing, or a party, or a skiing trip? Damn! It's true what they say, a liar needs to have a good memory._

"But Mom, he took me out sailing in the evening last year. It's not like he forgot my birthday or anything. He had a lot to do, I understand that."

"You, my dear, are a very understanding wife. Hope he knows how lucky he is to have you," Renee spoke with pride in her voice that only a mother could have.

"I'm the lucky one, Mom. So, just ease off on him, ok? Don't worry about me."

"If you say so," Renee said, happy to hear the conviction in her daughter's voice. "So, what are your plans today, baby?"

"I don't know yet, Mom. He said he'll pick me up after work. I hope it's nothing too big," she said with mock horror. She heard her mother laugh indulgingly on the other end. The sound of it made her happy.

They spoke a little longer. Her mother casually mentioned college and wondered when she'd go back to school again. Bella assured her that she would return soon, maybe next semester. Renee reminded her to drink a lot of water; Bella's stint at the hospital six months ago was explained away as a silly case of fainting due to dehydration. She had literally begged her husband not to tell her parents the truth. She was grateful that her parents didn't find anything suspicious about the cover story. Only once did Renee express out loud whether the fainting spell may have been a surprise pregnancy, but she was quickly set right and she hadn't brought it up since. She spoke with her dad for a few minutes about his health, the weather, and Diego, his in-home nurse, before hanging up. Like always, she promised to call more often, which she knew she wouldn't keep. She was relieved when the call came to an end.

It wasn't that her husband told her she couldn't contact her parents. In fact, he was more than helpful when she visited them a year ago. He arranged for his private jet to shuttle her to Florida and didn't bat an eye when she said she planned on spending the whole month with them. Of course, there was no question about Rodney accompanying her. But when she actually arrived at her parents' house, she found that the unrestricted love and acceptance their company provided made it far harder for her to keep up the charade. She couldn't bear to look them in the eye, and realized that if she stayed too long, she would bring down the carefully constructed house of cards. That was a possibility she was adamant to prevent at all cost. In the end, she cut her trip short and returned to Washington after just two weeks, much to her parents' disappointment. That was the only time she had seen them since the wedding. She preferred the distance and occasional phone calls to the knowing, soul searching scrutiny, especially from her father. Her parents knew her too well. She might be able to fool a handful of people who made up the housekeeping staff – though she doubted that she even managed to do that – there was no way she'd be able to pull it off convincingly with her parents. This was better.

Returning the phone to its charging deck, Bella closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then released it slowly to clear her mind of all thoughts. She heard Sylvia's footsteps entering the room.

"So Bella, I hear it's your birthday today. Why didn't you tell me? Wow, happy birthday, sweetheart."

Bella furrowed her brow and nodded in acknowledgement, and then asked, "How do you know? Who told you?"

"When your mom called, I could hear them singing. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I just couldn't help hearing it before I left the room. So, you are the birthday girl, ha?"

Bella instantly felt her guards going up.

_How much did she hear? Did she listen in to what I said? Damn it! Why does she have to be so nosy?_

"Yah, it's no big deal. I don't like to celebrate. It's just another day. It doesn't mean anything," she said dismissively.

"Is that so? Well that doesn't sound right to me at all, if you ask me-"

"No one is asking you, Mrs. Cope. Please drop it." Bella said in an uncharacteristically harsh manner.

Sylvia nodded in understanding, her gaze heavy with sympathy. Bella hated the look. She feared that Sylvia had heard more than she was letting on, but there wasn't anything she could do about it now. She berated herself for not paying closer attention. Sylvia might have suspected many things about the strange nature of her marriage, but this would be the first time that she'd catch her lying outright.

_This is not good; this is not good at all._

Carlisle wouldn't like it. It was important to him that they showed a flawlessly shining, united front to the outside world. He loathed being the fodder of gossip. She didn't want to aggravate her husband, and that's exactly what she would be doing if she blabbered about their complicated relationship to an outsider. The thought of her husband made her heart heavy with regret. It had been a very long time since she'd really, consciously thought about him. He had been her warden, her tormentor for so long that it surprised her to think that it hadn't always been that way. That there was a time when she worshipped the ground he walked on and he looked at her with loving, benevolent indulgence.

She nestled into the sunniest corner of the room and thought back to the day when she first saw him.

**AN: Thank you for reading and giving me a chance. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Come find me on twitter: (at)ToTheDreaming. **

**Thank lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I don't know how I ever thought I could do it on my own. **

**My eternal gratitude to BellaScotia. Words will forever be inadequate to accurately say what you mean to me. But since words are all I have, thank you, sweetheart! You are my hero.**

**Thank you TKgel and Kassiah, two legends and luminaries of ficdom. I can't tell you what it meant to me that you read my chapter and left a review. **

**Bronzehyperion, I am kicking myself for not reading your story months ago. Thank you for your kind words and rec-ing me out. **

**I also need to thank SammieLynnsMom for taking the time and giving me your brutally honest opinion and MrsEdwardCullenP for being my first reviewer. Thank you!**

**Thank you ****.woman****, ****rsher1111****, ****bandmum****, ****rocket roe and co****, ****Shahula****, ****janneyt****, and ****twitoria**** for reviewing, and everyone who'd put this story on their alert/fav list. I hope you are still here. **

**IcarusToSun, thank you for talking me down from the ledge and cheering me up with the banner (Yippy!). And for tweeting to your friends about my story. You are too kind.**

**Story rec: Bring on the Wonder by Bronzehyperion. The story was sitting in my to-read list for months. As mentioned earlier, I deeply regret not reading it before. Don't make my mistake. This story is beyond captivating. It shows a near perfect Edward, waiting to become a priest while trying to save a street-walker, prostitute Bella from herself. It's truly amazing. **

**http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6247426/1/**

**I promised not to go overboard with AN. Sorry! I really will keep it short next time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 2:

Carlisle wouldn't like it. It was important to him that they showed a flawlessly shining, united front to the outside world. He loathed being the fodder of gossip. She didn't want to aggravate her husband, and that's exactly what she would be doing if she blabbered about their complicated relationship to an outsider. The thought of her husband made her heart heavy with regret. It had been a very long time since she'd really, consciously thought about him. He had been her warden, her tormentor for so long that it surprised her to think that it hadn't always been that way. That there was a time when she worshipped the ground he walked on and he looked at her with loving, benevolent indulgence.

She nestled into the sunniest corner of the room and thought back to the day when she first saw him.

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

Bella was sitting in her 9th grade English class, secretly swapping notes with her best friend Alice, on the day her life changed forever.

She was fifteen, and the biggest problem in her universe at the moment was whether or not Vanessa – or Vampessa, as she was currently being called behind her back – would go to the principal to rat her out for tripping her up in the hallway. Under normal circumstances, Bella wasn't a violent girl. But she saw no recourse but to kick Vanessa's knees from behind, causing the girl to buckle and fall face-first on to the floor, when she caught her tormenting Alice on her way to class that day.

Bella wasn't the school pariah by any means. Coming from a working class family in a working class zip code, she blended in perfectly with the rest of the student population. Her best friend Alice, however, did not. She had a tendency to rub people the wrong way though she meant well. That, combined with her almost 4'10" stature, made her a prime choice for anyone on campus with an ounce of bully in them to pick on her if the occasion presented itself.

On this particular day, Vanessa, the tallest member of the school's cheerleading team, found the perfect opportunity to poke fun at Alice, by making full use of her superior height to hold up a book that Alice couldn't do without. Some of Vanessa's cronies were standing around, enjoying the spectacle, when Bella stumbled upon the scene.

She was incensed by the inaction of the spectators and wasted no time in jumping right into rescuing her vertically challenged friend. As they were walking away victorious, after sending Vanessa sprawling to the floor, they heard her making threats to go to the principal to lodge a complaint. At that time, Bella goaded her to do just that. Now that she'd had some time to calm down, she was realizing that her bravado was quite ill-conceived and ill-timed. Her parents would be furious if they were summoned to the principal's office for such an infraction on Bella's part. Her father, Charlie Swan, was a security guard whose work schedule was rigid to say the least. Her mother, Renee, worked at the post office part-time. For her, any unplanned absence translated to income loss. She would really be in for it if Vanessa carried through with her threat.

Alice was trying to ease her mind by writing encouraging notes, detailing what a wuss Vanessa really was, that there's no way she would go to the principal. Even if she did, Alice would rightfully seek revenge by blabbing about seeing her cheat on the math test. The cheating part wasn't strictly true, but Alice would do it for the sake of justice; especially when it was her best friend who'd been wronged by that 'bitch'.

However comforting it was to know that she could count on Alice to have her back, it didn't really help her with the predicament she was in right now. Paying barely any attention to what their teacher was saying, she kept looking at the clock between swapping notes, planning on bolting the moment the bell rang and hiding out for the rest of the school day in the library. _A problem avoided is a problem averted_, being her motto.

There was only ten minutes left on the clock when she finally started feeling hopeful that maybe she had dodged the bullet after all. As she was just about to turn her full attention to the reading material before her, the door opened and the school's guidance counselor, Mr. Berty, walked in. Bella's heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. She knew instantly that Mr. Berty had come for her. Surely enough, after he'd exchanged a few words with the teacher, he called out her name, asking her to accompany him to the principal's office.

Alice gave her an encouraging smile, but that did little to lift her spirit. With slumped shoulders, Bella gathered her books and followed Mr. Berty. When she reached the principal's office, she was asked to take a seat. She sat down with her face downcast, waiting for the berating to begin.

Principal Hodge surprised her however, by speaking to her in a very tender voice, "Miss Swan, I have some difficult news for you, I'm afraid. We've received a call from your mother. It would appear that your father fell ill while he was at work today, and his coworkers called for the emergency services. He's at the Clallam County _Hospital_ now. Your mother is with him, and he's in good hands. She needs you to be there with her. Mr. Berty here will drive you there right now…"

His remaining words were lost to Bella. She ran out of the room with Mr. Berty in tow. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she could hardly concentrate on a single word Mr. Berty was telling her during the short drive to the hospital.

Once they arrived, he helped her to locate the floor on which her dad was being treated. When she spotted her mother, she ran into her arms and sobbed on her shoulder. Once they had both calmed down a little, Renee told her how she'd received a call from Billy Black while she was at work, informing her that Charlie had collapsed while running his usual patrol around the perimeters of the Cullen estate where they both worked. Fortunately, Billy was with him when this happened and he'd called for help immediately. The doctors suspected a stroke, and they were currently working on him. All she knew was that he was alive when he arrived at the hospital. She hadn't heard anything from the hospital staff yet.

They huddled together in the waiting room, clinging to each other for strength, as they waited for the doctors to bring them some kind of news about Charlie's condition. Bella could see how distraught her mother was; she was just as shaken by this sudden misfortune as Renee.

Charlie Swan was the rock that anchored their world; he was the one who protected and looked after their little family. At times like this, he would be the one they would turn to. The notion of him lying helpless in a hospital bed was too foreign and terrifying. The two women were worried out of their minds, neither knowing how to console the other. They passed the hours mostly in silence, each negotiating with God to spare the life of their loved one, putting up random items as a wager. For Renee, it ranged from promises of more regular Church attendance, to never again picking a fight with her husband, while for Bella the bargaining chips varied between keeping up her grades in school and never wanting to date a boy again.

Once his shift was over, Billy Black dropped by. He came straight from work, and looked nearly as stressed and tired as Bella and Renee did. He hugged them both and inquired about Charlie. When he was told that they still hadn't heard any news, he went off to ask around on their behalf. He came back with Charlie's attending physician, who introduced himself as Dr. Green. He apologized for his tardiness and explained to them that from all apparent symptoms, Charlie Swan had suffered a hemorrhagic stroke. He added that after being treated at the ER, he had been admitted to the stroke unit of the hospital. Thanks to the speedy response from the medics, they'd been able to stabilize his condition. However, he was still being kept in the ICU and hadn't regained consciousness since he'd been admitted. They were optimistic about his prognosis, but by no means was he out of the woods quite yet.

He asked Renee a few questions about Charlie's medical history and lifestyle. Billy supplied the information regarding the circumstances around his collapse that day, since Renee wasn't present at the time. The doctor took notes and informed them that they were permitted to see Charlie, though only one person at a time. However, he stressed that they'd do better to catch some rest now and fuel up for the long recovery process that Charlie was likely to start once he woke up.

He proceeded to tell them that while they were optimistic about Charlie's prognosis, the possibility of him making a full recovery was slim. Furthermore, they'd only be able to determine the degree of the damage once he woke up, hopefully within the next twenty four hours, at which point he'd be able to share more information about the future treatment options and medication. He promised them that a nurse would come by soon to take them to see Charlie before he left for the day at the end of his shift.

Renee and Bella sighed in relief at hearing Charlie was still alive. Neither could really contemplate their life without him. The nurse came to collect them soon after, and all three of them were led to the ICU section of the stroke unit. Bella urged her mother to go first as she waited outside with Billy Black. When her turn came to finally see her father, she wiped her tears before entering the room. She didn't want him to see her cry, even though she was told that he was still unconscious. His deathly pallor nearly made her buck, but she persevered on and approached his bed to hold his limp hand for a few moments.

_Please don't die, Dad. Please. _

_We need you. Please come home. _

Heeding the doctor's words, and at Billy's insistence, Renee went home that night with Bella. Her plans were to return first thing in the morning. Completely drained after their day filled with stress, neither had the emotional fortitude to think past the respite they got that Charlie survived his close call with death. They went to bed exhausted and grateful and blissfully unaware of the impending catastrophe, albeit of a different nature, that awaited them.

However, reality sank in soon enough. Renee called her supervisor at work to inform him that she'd be unable to work her shift for a few days due to her husband's unexpected illness. He was highly sympathetic, but couldn't promise to hold her slot open for her, given how understaffed and underfunded they already were. Only then did it dawn on her that her family was essentially without an income now. It wasn't that the Swans were poor, but they weren't people of means by any standard either. They effectively lived from pay check to pay check. They didn't have any nest eggs or emergency funds to fall back on; every dollar they could save went into their daughter's college fund. Every cent of their earnings was spoken for, and she didn't know what might happen in two weeks time.

She was so distraught about their quandary that she didn't even argue when Bella insisted on skipping school to go to the hospital with her. She sighed as she placed the call to Bella's school and allowed her daughter to accompany her to visit Charlie. She tried to push away the fear that was threatening to bubble over and focus on her husband's health instead. She also tried to appear strong and positive for Bella's benefit. However, more unpleasant surprises were waiting for them at the hospital.

They were told that Charlie was deemed stable enough and was moved from the ICU to the general ward that morning. The room he was taken to was designed to hold three beds, though Charlie was the only patient that day. When they visited him, he seemed to be in a semi-conscious state; his eyes flickered randomly, but there was no recognition in them. They sat by him regardless and tried to talk to him quietly, telling him how much they loved and needed him.

By late morning, a nurse dropped by to tell Renee that Dr. Green would come and find her soon to update her on Charlie's current condition. Renee was also informed that they would like her to contact the hospital administration to fill out some paperwork in order to claim the insurance coverage that Charlie held, assuming he had some.

Bella noticed how her mother's face paled at the mention of possible medical bills. She wasn't stupid, and although she never had to experience extreme material hardship, she wasn't oblivious to how her parents made ends meet to keep their family going every month. She had been preoccupied with the immediate concern of Charlie's survival. Now that the worst had passed, the stark reality of the bind they were in began to settle on her like a nasty chill. She reached for her mother's hand and tried to sound as reassuring as possible when she said, "We'll be ok, Mom. We have my college fund, right? And I can get a few extra babysitting jobs, or maybe something at Ron's Food Mart? Please don't worry, Mom, please."

"I know, honey. I'm not worried at all! We'll be fine. We just need to rearrange a few things here and there, and maybe cut a few corners until your dad gets back on his feet. I just want you to think about school, ok?" Renee said with a false bravado and a strained smile on her face. It broke her heart to have to lie to Bella, knowing that it probably wouldn't be long before they'd have to drain out her college fund.

Whatever hope Renee might have had of Charlie getting back on his feet was shattered when she spoke with Dr. Green later that day. The doctor suggested that he spoke to Renee alone so she left Bella with her father and stood right outside the door to get briefed. As soon as they left the room, Bella stealthily moved closer to the wall to hear what the doctor was saying. She wasn't particularly concerned about the follies of eavesdropping at that particular moment.

Dr. Green elaborated that Charlie's brain had sustained significant damage due to oxygen deprivation. Even though the call for help was placed fairly quickly from the onset of the attack, and the medics brought him to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible, it still wasn't fast enough to save the neurons that had already died before any treatment could be administered to stop the bleeding in his brain. The right side of his body was now paralyzed, and his recognition and speech center also seemed to have been affected. He was hopeful that most likely Charlie hadn't suffered any cognitive impairment. With time, and extensive physical and occupational therapy, his chances were good that he might be able to recover some, if not all, of his vocabulary, and regain partial use of his right limbs.

However, Renee needed to have realistic expectations about Charlie's convalescence; he probably would never work as a security guard again. She also needed to consider some sort of in-home, around the clock care for him for the next few months at least, and possibly longer, since Charlie would be on medication for the foreseeable future which needed to be administered regularly. Alternatively, there were resources available at the hospital that could point her towards care facilities for stroke patients. At the end of the day, he said, Charlie Swan was extremely lucky to be alive. If his condition didn't take a turn for the worse, he could be released in two to three weeks. He shared a few polite words of hope and left before reminding Renee that she ought to get in touch with the hospital administration and contact Charlie's insurance carrier.

Bella hugged her mother when Renee came back into the room. Her tear streaked face spoke volumes, and Renee could tell that there was little point in keeping this from her child.

"You heard?" Renee asked.

Bella could only nod her head. They both knew what this meant. They were facing veritable financial disaster. Charlie's employer, Carlisle Cullen, provided him and his family with a very basic coverage that was standard for all of his housekeeping staff. The Swans rarely needed it for more than routine doctor visits every once in a while. Renee had never bothered to look up what conditions and treatments the plan actually covered, or how long they would continue to pay out after Charlie ceased to work. She wanted to berate herself for this oversight, but little could be done about it now.

Renee's part-time job offered even less protection, which she'd willingly opted out from because her husband's plan was slightly more generous. Not that it mattered now anyway, since she no longer had a job. Drawing from Bella's college fund was a foregone conclusion; there was no other option. Even with that, she couldn't see a way of making it past the middle of next month. That was before she'd factored in the deductable cost of Charlie's hospital stay, not to mention all of their regular bills, like the mortgage and the electricity.

Renee knew she shouldn't let her daughter see her crumble like that, but she was too terrified to put on a brave act convincingly. All she could do was hug her daughter and rock her slowly, hoping that a mother's love would be enough to ease her worries for the moment. She decided to speak to Billy Black before talking with the hospital administration. Perhaps his health plan wasn't too different from Charlie's and he might be able to advise her about the best avenue to pursue.

Bella offered to go to the cafeteria to fetch some food for her mother, while Renee said she would call Billy about the insurance plan Charlie was entitled to from work. Renee asked if Bella had enough money for the food, but Bella waved her off and made her way downstairs to the hospital cafe. She knew firsthand how tight cash was for them right now. She didn't want to take any from her mother.

She had six dollars and seventy five cents on her. She doubted that it would stretch enough for both, but hoped to find something cheap just to sustain them until they returned home. Her heart fell when she saw the price list of all the food items. After carefully analyzing the prices, she bought a sandwich and a coffee for Renee before returning to Charlie's room. Renee was just hanging up the phone when Bella came back with the food.

"Did you get a bite, honey?" Renee asked as she took the food and coffee gratefully from her daughter.

"Yeah…I had some yoghurt. I'm good," Bella replied without meeting her mother's gaze.

Renee saw through her ruse within seconds, and after putting down the provisions on the table next to the bed, she drew Bella into her arms.

"My silly, silly girl. You didn't get anything for yourself, did you? What am I going to do with you?" Renee said lovingly as she tucked a wisp of hair behind Bella's ear.

"Here, we'll share. I know things aren't looking too bright right now, but baby, we're not starving quite yet, ok? I won't let it come to that," she said, and then proceeded to tear the sandwich in half to hand Bella a part.

Billy Black came by shortly after, and he told them what they didn't already know about the details of the insurance package he and Charlie received from work. Yes, as far as he knew, all the staff of the house management team had the same plan, which was quite basic. However, Charlie collapsed while on the job, so he was quite certain that they would cover at least part of the cost. A bigger concern was that his and Charlie's blue collar jobs didn't come with a 401K or any other kind of pension plan. Once the insurance payout stopped, the Swans would be on their own. He advised that Renee file for social security and Medicaid as soon as possible since the paperwork for that was extensive and it would be a while before they'd see a check.

He also mentioned that he had started a collection pool at work for Charlie's care and everyone working at the estate was making contributions as he spoke. It probably wouldn't amount to much, but the good will and prayers of those Charlie worked with ought to lift her spirit a little.

Armed with this tentative game plan, Renee decided to go and meet with the hospital administrator to find out about the real picture. Bella and Billy held a vigil by Charlie's bedside while they waited for Renee's return. She was gone for longer than expected, and when she came back, she was far more upset than she had been when she left.

Her talk with the administrator revealed a far grimmer picture than what she had envisioned earlier. Charlie was burning through over three thousand dollars a day for his hospital stay, not including the costs of diagnostic tests and treatment. The insurance would only cover a fraction of that. He was covered for a week of hospital stay, but that only kicked in after three days of deductible costs. Considering the severity of Charlie's stroke, he could easily require three full weeks of inpatient care. His insurance would pay for less than half of that.

With the cost of homecare, prescription meds, and physical therapy, they were looking at an astronomical medical bill that they had no way of paying, even if Medicaid or social security kicked in at some point. They were looking at a clear path to bankruptcy and a life in debt for as far they could see down the road.

"What will I do, Billy? How will I look after Charlie and Bella? I don't know how to do this alone. I need him with me, Billy; I need him," Renee spoke between sobs.

Bella held her mother and fought her own tears, not wanting to add to her mother's plight.

Billy stayed with them until they were asked to leave for the night. Renee would have preferred to stay with Charlie, but the thought of having to spend money to buy food from the cafeteria deterred her. She couldn't be frivolous when there was food in their fridge; although neither of them had much of an appetite when they got home. They both were too distraught to console the other, and soon they left for their own rooms to contemplate their troubles in private.

Bella dug through her closet and pulled out a peanut butter jar that she used as a piggybank. Growing up in a lower middle class household taught her the value of money, and she had been setting aside whatever she could from her lunch money and babysitting jobs ever since she was twelve. She hoped that it would serve her to get by with secondary expenses when she finally made it to college. She took out her stash and carefully counted the bills and the loose change; seven hundred and ninety two dollars and fifty cents. She counted it again, in a silly hope that maybe a second count would somehow round it up to an even eight hundred. No, it was still seven hundred and ninety two dollars, plus change.

_So little. Damn!_

She cursed herself for spending so much of her savings on unnecessary indulgences like books, CDs, and makeup. She wished she could take it all back.

She took the money and went to her parent's room. She had a feeling her mother would still be awake. She was right. Renee opened the door and let her in. She looked bone tired and terrified, but she tried to inject some cheer in her voice as she greeted her daughter, "Can't sleep baby? Let's go to the kitchen, I'll warm up some milk for you. I can't sleep either."

Bella shook her head and walked past her mother to sit on the edge of their bed. She looked at Renee with sheepish eyes. She knew her offering would upset her mother and make her feel inadequate, but it had to be done. Without words, she simply held out the roll of bills for her mother to take.

"What's this?" Renee asked in surprise.

"My babysitting money. It's not much, but I thought we could use it for groceries for a while…"

Renee kept looking at her daughter with shock, not making any move to actually take the cash that was being offered.

"Mom…please, take it. Things will be ok. I can be homeschooled maybe, and work full-time at the Food Mart…"

Bella's words were interrupted by Renee's sudden outburst of tears. She covered her head in her hands and bawled, uncontrollable sobs wrecking through her body. Her words were barely understandable, "Oh Bella...what kind of a mother am I? I can't…I can't even take care of you…or your dad…I'm sorry…"

Bella hugged Renee and tried to console her, "Please don't cry, Mom. Please. We'll be ok, you'll see. We have each other, right? We will look after Dad together, and he'll get better someday. I know he will."

They sat on the floor like that for what seemed like hours. Finally, Bella placed the roll of cash in Renee's hand and closed her fingers around it. She knew she was hurting her mother's pride, but it couldn't be avoided. She looked into Renee's eyes meaningfully, pleading with her not to reject it. After a long moment, Renee accepted the gift, even though it killed her to do so. After wiping away her tears, she acquiesced, "But you will not drop out of school, ok? No matter what, you stay in school and you keep your grades up. You promise me that," she insisted.

Bella nodded. She would indeed try her utmost to stay in school. If anything, her parents had drilled into her subconscious while growing up just how important having an education is. Charlie and Renee never had the chance to go to college. Circumstances and financial constraints didn't allow them that privilege. But they were determined to give the opportunity to their only daughter. Bella would do everything in her power to bring her parents' dream to fruition. However, she was learning fast that in life choices could be taken away from you without any warning, and as she was faced with the limited choices before her, she knew she would pick the survival of her family over personal ambition any day.

That night she climbed into the bed with her mother, like she used to when she was a little girl. The shared distress between the two finally exhausted them, and they drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Renee placed a call to their bank to start the mortgage application, and went online to find out about federal assistance programs for low income families in duress. She wasn't too keen on letting Bella skip school again, but she was talked into it by Bella's pleading words and her promises to catch up with all the missed school work as soon as possible. Renee reluctantly placed the call to the school while Bella sent off a quick text to Alice, finally bringing her up to speed with regards to Charlie, and asking her to collect all the assignments for the classes she was missing.

Later in life, Bella would think back and wonder how her life could have taken a very different path, had Renee refused to let her skip school that day. She would have grown up to go to UW, and in her first year of undergrad school she would have gone to Boston with her class and maybe she would have met _him _without any interventions from the outside world_._ But that wasn't to be. The cosmic die had been cast and the path of her life was set that morning when she drove to the hospital with her mother.

Charlie's condition was much the same as the day before. He stayed asleep most of the time; they were told it was a good sign of recovery. His conscious moments were strewn with unintelligible mutterings and wandering eyes that hinted that he was still struggling to orient himself.

Bella and Renee were sitting by Charlie's bedside when they heard a slight commotion outside of the room. From what they could gather from the little view the open door afforded, Dr. Green was speaking with a man; his tone and posture expressed deference and respect. He was nodding and agreeing with whatever he was being told. Once their conversation concluded, the doctor motioned towards Charlie's room and the man turned around to enter through the door, followed by the doctor and another man in tow.

Bella experienced a moment of complete disorientation when her gaze fell upon the face of the newcomer. One didn't expect to see such exquisite perfection outside of a movie or a magazine cover. He was clothed in a very expensive looking suit, complemented by mirror-polished shoes. He literally glowed in the drab surroundings of the hospital room. His face was so beautiful that she nearly forgot to breathe while looking at him. His crystalline, blue eyes held the promise of the sky's depth. His blond mane was perfectly styled. She knew for certain that she had never laid eyes upon anyone more stunning or gorgeous than the stranger who had just strolled into her father's hospital room.

_This must be what angels look like! Bet he's hiding a pair of wings somewhere in there. Why is he here? Who is he?_

Adding to her shock, the beautiful stranger approached Renee and began to speak in perfectly poised diction, "Mrs. Swan? I regret meeting you under these circumstances…"

Renee could only nod; she too, had been shocked into speechlessness by his presence.

He continued, "I'm Carlisle Cullen. I was out of the country until last night and was just told about Charlie. I am extremely sorry that you are going through this. Your husband has been a valued employee and I'd like you to know that I will do everything necessary to lessen the burden of this hardship on your family. Tell me how are you all holding up? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh, Mr. Cullen, uh…Oh my god! I mean, it's an honor to meet you sir. I really appreciate you coming in person. I know it would mean a lot to Charlie," Renee responded after collecting her wits the best she could.

"Don't mention it. I would, however, like to have a word with you about how you're going to handle all this. Maybe it's best if we stepped out for a few minutes. You could fill me in on Charlie's condition and what needs to be done in the coming weeks…" he trailed off on a questioning note, but there was no room for argument in his suggestion.

Renee nodded in agreement, "Sure, we could go to the waiting room in the hallway out there," then suddenly remembering her daughter's presence in the room, she turned to her and said, "oh, Mr. Cullen, this is our daughter, Isabella…"

At the sound of her name she quickly jerked her head; only now realizing that she'd been gaping at the man the entire time. She tentatively struck out her shaky hand and in a completely awestruck voice said, "How do you do, sir?"

He turned towards the young, starry-eyed girl and took her hand in his. Giving it a mild squeeze, he said, "Nice to meet you, Isabella. Your mother will be right back, ok?"

She nodded as she watched him guide her mother out of the room. Like a child following the pied piper, she found herself being drawn to the door, reluctant to let him out of her line of vision. Fortunately, they didn't move too far away from the room. She heard him ask her mother about Charlie's condition and her mother answering the best she could while choking back tears.

"Dr. Green said he might never regain the full function of his right side. If he can't work…" she heard Renee say with a downcast face.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. But you can't think like that; he is alive, he made it through the worst. You need to focus on the positive. A lot is resting on your shoulders, Mrs. Swan; Charlie and your daughter are depending on you, so you need to be strong. I can assure you that I will do whatever I can to help. So please, I would like you to be very candid with me; how prepared are you for the coming weeks?" he said in that soothing voice of his.

Renee fumbled with words. How would she even begin to verbalize what dire straits they were in. Wiping her eyes she looked up and said, "I lost my job yesterday. Charlie's pay check was all we had. The doctors said, he would need in-home care and therapy for months. His insurance won't even cover for his hospital until after three days, and that too for only a week. Oh God, what will I do?" Bella remembered how Renee had broken down the night before. Her heart clenched to see her mother sob in front of a stranger.

"Mrs. Swan, listen to me, here" he produced a handkerchief and handed it to Renee, "I understand how daunting this is. But you can't fall apart like this. Do you have family or friends that you can call on for support?"

"Charlie's parents passed away, and mine live in a nursing home. It's just us; we don't have anyone…" Renee said while wiping tears off her face.

"Then I will do what needs to be done for your family," he asked confidently. "I will take care of the hospital bills, whatever the insurance won't cover will be sent to me. Ok? You don't need to worry about that anymore. Your priority needs to be Charlie and your family right now, not worrying about bills."

He spoke with ease and conviction that left Renee a babbling mess. It was too much to take in. There was such a strong element of surrealism about it all. People just didn't get rescued from the brink of financial annihilation by a strikingly gorgeous employer, who'd hardly ever been mentioned by her husband. She was grasping for words to thank him and let him know how grateful she was,

"Oh, Mr. Cullen, uh…what? Oh my god! I don't know how to thank you...it's so very generous of you, and we are grateful, so very grateful…" Renee was nearly hyperventilating.

The beautiful man smiled indulgently.

"I assure you, Mrs. Swan, there is no need to thank me. I want to do this. Charlie has protected my home for a very long time. I will not let any harm come to his. I would like you to concentrate on his recovery. Someone will come to see you tomorrow to work out everything on paper. He'll explain to you how payments will be made, or whom to send all the bills to. I would like you to think about all your responsibilities and commitments and if there is anything else you need, feel free to mention that to him too. Ok?" he spoke with authority, yet his manner was comforting.

Renee could only nod and mutter barely comprehensible 'thanks yous' in response.

"Goodbye Mrs. Swan. Give my regards to Charlie when he wakes up." He gave a soft smile to Renee and then turned on his heels and walked away with impeccable poise and grace. To Bella, it seemed like the light in the hallway dimmed a little with his departure.

A dazed Renee walked back to the room and they continued to share a stunned silence long after he was gone, neither quite able to believe the sudden good fortune that seemed to have solved all their problems in a single sweep.

_He is an angel!_

**AN: Thank you for reading and giving me a chance. Come find me on twitter if you like: (at)ToTheDreaming.**

**BellaScotia read through this chapter and improved it in ways I never could have done. I would never be able to thank that woman enough! If you are reading Secrets and Lies, you know how tremendously talented she is.**

**Thanks to lulabelle98 for making all this readable. She is brilliant, and has the patience of a saint. She writes Learning to Live and she has a new project in the making. I****t's called The Long Walk Home. I have sworn to secrecy to keep my mouth zipped, but I can tell you this much: It will be good. Put her on author alert. **

**Bridgette preread the chapter too. I don't know if she will come back, but I am thankful to her for her time.**

**I thank Rene (TheEdwardians) for rec-ing me in her story All That Remains. It's an awesome daddy-ward tale that I am positive you will like.**

**Thank you lt90 for rec-ing Beautiful Sorrow in her story Uptown Reality. You are too kind. Check out her work.**

**Thanks to kimbo06 for the most fun WCs possible! Her zombies make me write!**

**Thank you all those who reviewed and all those who only read. I can't tell you how much it means. **

**Length of hospital stay after stroke can vary from just over a week to over three weeks, depending on secondary risk factors, recovery rate, and severity of the stroke. I looked up a few articles on the average cost and length of hospital stay. Let me know if any of you are interested; I'd be happy to share them.**

**Medical bills leading to bankruptcy, is not a myth. It's a stark reality in the US. In fact, it's the leading cause of personal bankruptcy in the country. Elizabeth Warren from Harvard Law School has written extensively on the topic. Let me know if anyone is interested. **

**I have no idea if Clallam County Hospital has a stroke unit. That's where creative license kicks in! **

**I am clearly incapable of keeping a lid on the AN. So all bets are off! Just beware that all the subsequent ANs will be just as bad. Sorry!**


	4. Chapter 4

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 3:

"Goodbye Mrs. Swan. Give my regards to Charlie when he wakes up." He gave a soft smile to Renee and then turned on his heels and walked away with impeccable poise and grace. To Bella, it seemed like the light in the hallway dimmed a little with his departure.

A dazed Renee walked back to the room and they continued to share a stunned silence long after he was gone, neither quite able to believe the sudden good fortune that seemed to have solved all their problems in a single sweep.

_He is an angel!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

**Bella, 2009**

Her husband didn't come to their room that night though Bella stayed up just the same, unwilling to be caught off guard again now that he'd made an appearance after his long sojourn. She wondered when things would go back to 'normal'. He had shown amazing restraint and patience for the past six months. In fact, other than the time when he laid down the rules about her treatment, he had hardly spared her a second glance. Until last night, that is.

She cautiously gave herself a few more weeks. She felt a little distressed, wondering how she'd return to the old, familiar pattern without the aid of alcohol. Last night was a bitter reminder of how badly she'd come to rely on the substance to take off the edge. Being sober made everything annoyingly real; an unwanted reality that she hoped she could run from. And run she did, in her mind, with the help of a little liquid courage.

_Not anymore. _

He wished her happy birthday last night. What did that mean? She couldn't remember him speaking to her kindly once during their marriage– unless they were in public, of course. He was very careful with her when they were among people. He spoke to her courteously, and allowed her to rest her hand upon his elbow when escorting her to places. Appearance of propriety was important to him, as was privacy.

When she woke up in the hospital six months ago, for a while there she thought he'd kill her for making such a public spectacle of herself. The young bride of the illustrious Carlisle Cullen being admitted to the hospital for substance abuse and anorexia. She could guess that a significant amount of cash had changed hands to make sure the incident didn't get reported in the media more than it already had. But there was no way of keeping the truth from the hospital staff. Fortunately for her, they already came oath-bound to preserve the secrets of their patients, but no doubt it'd upset her husband just the same.

_Miraculously, he didn't lash out at her when she'd regained consciousness. He was waiting by her bedside when she woke, scrutinizing her with cold, tired eyes. He allowed her the time to collect her thoughts and bearings. The last thing she remembered was sitting by the fireplace in the house, reaching for the half empty wine bottle. She kept reaching, but couldn't seem to touch the damn thing. From her surroundings, she could tell she was in a hospital now. That didn't bode too well. _

_It took her sluggish brain a while to realize how badly her head was hurting, and how she could hardly muster the strength to move even a finger. She didn't know how she got there, or what exactly was wrong with her, but she knew he was angry. He hadn't spoken a word since she'd opened her eyes, but his quiet rage filled the room to the brim._

"_I'm sorry," she said preemptive, in a raspy voice._

_He made a quick motion with his hand to silence her, his eyes lighting up in warning. His clenched jaw told her he was not in the mood to hear any of her futile excuses. He pressed a button on one of the machines that surrounded her bed and left the room without giving her a second look. _

_Nurses and doctors poured over her soon after. The Chief of Psychiatry came by to assess the risk of her self-harming. In the early days, she felt completely out of her depth, not knowing how to answer the questions she was being asked. Her husband hadn't spoken to her at all, and she couldn't guess what he'd like her to say. She tried to counter all queries with innocuous responses, as far as possible. _

_No, she wasn't trying to kill herself._

_No, she didn't think she was too fat._

_No, she didn't purge after eating._

_No, she wasn't depressed. She couldn't be happier in her marriage._

_No, of course her husband had never hurt her. He loved her very much, for crying out loud. _

_Yes, she realized alcohol dependency was bad, and she was determined to stop. It was all just a mistake after all, she simply misjudged how much she was drinking. It wouldn't happen again. _

_Yes, she would eat properly from now on. Mealtimes tended to just slip her mind a lot… must be because of the alcohol in her system. She was resolved to do better._

_Yes, she'd tell them if something was bothering her. _

_She had no idea how convincing she was since the doctors who spoke with her never gave any indication as to how they were processing her responses. They just made notes and nodded their heads in sage understanding. She was released after five days into her husband's care with a long list of instructions from her doctors – she had a whole task force convened just for her, she'd later found out. Her husband came to escort her home. He conferred with the attending physician and assured him that no expenses would be spared to guarantee that his wife received the best help possible to regain her health. She obediently climbed into the wheelchair and let her husband roll her out to the car. _

_She noticed a few changes once she arrived at the house. There was a padlock installed on the door to the cellar; all the vintage bottles the family owned were stored there. She felt quite sure that all the stray bottles had been removed from the kitchen and the bar as well. But she didn't linger to investigate as her husband was leading her to their room and she didn't want to appear reluctant to comply. She feared she'd done enough to crank up his ire; she didn't want to risk more._

_Once in their room, she didn't know what to do with herself. Would he want her to follow the script that was expected of her at night? Or did the day time call for different rules? Would she have the physical strength to carry her through just yet? She still felt so wobbly on her feet; even after five days of intense care at the hospital. _

"_Sit," he said. _

_She looked around and sat on the edge of the bed. She guardedly followed him with her eyes, and when he didn't take his usual seat in the corner, she exhaled in relief. Maybe he would give her a few days to recuperate. _

"_So, you are an alcoholic and anorexic now," he stated coldly, sitting on a loveseat closer to the bed. _

_She lowered her head in shame. _

"_I'm…I'm sorry, I really didn't realize I was drinking so m-" __S__he tried to apologize, but wasn't allowed to._

"_Save it__.__" __H__e sounded exasperated. _

"_What are you trying to do, Isabella? You think this stupid ploy will work on me? That this little cry for attention will magically make me forget what you've done?" he continued. But he sounded more tired than angry. _

_Bella shook her head; she was under no such delusion._

"_I've hired a nutritionist. She will stay in the house and monitor your progress. She will prepare all your food and whatever she puts before you, you will eat. I don't want to hear any complaints from her about you refusing to do so. Is that clear?" he asked._

_She nodded her head in agreement. She felt like a child being berated by her mother for not eating her greens. The shame inundated her. _

"_A therapist will come to the house twice a week. You will talk to her and let her help you kick your bloody drinking habit. I will not tolerate a repeat performance of this, Isabella. Do you understand?" __H__is voice shook a little towards the end, indicating that he meant business and she'd be well advised not to try his patience. _

_She had no intention to push his boundaries. She was beaten and she knew it. She had no wish of putting up a fight. What would be the point? But he'd asked her to talk to the therapist. What if she was asked questions that were too personal? What was the extent to which she was allowed to be candid?_

"_What should I say?...To the therapist, I mean?" __S__he decided to ask rather than mess up later by presuming too much. _

_This seemed to anger him anew. He clenched his fists and growled, "Fuck! Just…just get better, ok? I never want to see you drink again. Not one drop!_

"_For heaven's sake, you are twenty five pounds under weight. What the hell are you trying to pull here? You will get back to a healthy weight and stop this nonsense once and for all. I will get regular reports on your progress, and if I ever get any reason to believe you are sliding, or not taking this seriously, I swear to you, there'll be hell to pay!"_

_His outburst didn't really provide her with a clear guideline, but she knew better than to press the matter. The bottom line was that her husband wanted her to fix herself physically. It probably wasn't as gratifying to exact punishment on a skeletal train-wreck as it was on a healthy, lively body. She quickly nodded her head to signal her complete complacency. _

_He stood up and moved swiftly to leave the room, as if he couldn't stand to share the space with her anymore, but she needed to ask him something important before he left her to her own devices, not knowing when next she'd have the chance to hold a civil conversation with him. _

"_Uh…do they know? My parents- did you tell them? That I was in the hospital, I mean?" she asked with bated breath. She couldn't imagine having to explain this to her parents. What would they say? What would they think? It would break their heart. _

_He slowly walked back towards the bed, but didn't take his seat. He shook his head._

"_Please don't tell them…please," she begged._

"_It was in the news before I could run any damage control. They will know sooner or later."_

"_What?...Oh no! Who? What are they saying? What do they know?..." Bella asked with clear concern in her voice. The prospect of her parents finding out about her stint at the hospital from a magazine stand was distressing to say the least._

"_It's only one magazine; Glamour. Their story is that you fainted due to dehydration, and the doctors kept you in for observation," he said in a surprising soothing voice, as though he was trying to believe the story himself. _

_Bella contemplated the facts and realized that for a cover story it didn't sound too bad at all, not compared to the truth, and if she played her cards right, she just might be able to convince her mother that that's exactly what had happened. _

"_Don't tell them, please. Not the truth. I'll…I'll tell them we went hiking and lost our water bottles or something," she pleaded for him to cooperate. She might be able to sell the story to Renee, but not without his corroboration._

_He looked at her for a long time, weighing his options, and then nodded his head. _

"_But don't let me down, Isabella. This can never happen again."_

_He'd left her alone with the warning, and hadn't spoken a word to her since. _

Now, six months later, she lay in bed and wondered about her husband's strange demeanor as she tried to find sleep. Over the course of the past three years, she had learned to take comfort in the familiar and the predictable. Pain was familiar; cruelty was predictable. However agonizing it was, she could count on it as a constant. The sudden kindness scared her more. She didn't know what would come after, and that was a frightening prospect.

She woke up the next morning with the same unnerving feeling. It was Monday; a therapy day. Sylvia would oversee her weekly weigh-in in the morning and Dr. Weber would arrive at two.

She slowly forced herself out of the bed to face the day.

**AN: Thank you for reading and giving me a chance. I'm on twitter: ****(at)****ToTheDreaming.**

**Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without you. Your new story The Long Walk Home is an epic in the making, I have no doubt.**

**Bronzehyperion's story ****Bring on the Wonder**** got nominated for Best Edward at the Avant Garde award. Also, ****AELGP****'s steamy piece ****Marital Psychosis**** got nominated for Best Jacob. Please vote when the time comes. **

**My dear friend roon0 is about to launch her fic career with a scrumptious one shot. Please put her on author alert so you don't miss it when she posts.**

**Thank you kimbo06, roon0, and lulabelle98 for the best WCs. I need them.**

**Thanks to every one of you who've reviewed. It means the world.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 4:

She woke up the next morning with the same unnerving feeling. It was Monday; a therapy day. Sylvia would oversee her weekly weigh-in in the morning and Dr. Weber would arrive at two.

She slowly forced herself out of the bed to face the day.

* * *

><p>Chapter 5<p>

**Bella, 2009**

"How have you been, Bella?" Dr. Angela Weber asked in a professionally honed, soothing voice.

_I'm dying inside. Could you please stop with these useless questions?_

"Good," Bella answered.

They were sitting in the library, which was the usual spot for them to hold their sessions when Dr. Weber came by every Monday and Wednesday. On the rare sunny days, Dr. Weber would sometimes suggest that they take their sessions to the grounds outside the house, though summer was long gone and there hadn't been many rain-free days this September.

"I can see you have been doing remarkably well with your diet. You are only three pounds shy of being within your healthy weight range. Tell me, how do you feel about that?" Dr. Weber asked.

_I don't care one bit._

"Good, I mean, it's great, right?"

"Yes, it is. It's great news for your health. But I am more interested to know how you feel about being healthy? What does it mean for you?" Dr. Weber prodded.

Bella looked around the room, appearing to search for the right words. "I feel…ok, I mean, it's a good thing, right?"

She didn't like it when she couldn't decide what a 'safe' answer would be. Over the months, she had become relatively successful at fielding questions from Dr. Weber without actually divulging too much. She had learned to anticipate what might be asked of her during any given session, and was getting quite competent at speculating what answers would be deemed appropriate, and at the same time, show her commitment and willingness to get well. However, the true purpose behind all of the questions wasn't always easy to discern, like the one Dr. Weber was pursuing right now.

"At this point in time, what does getting well mean to you, Bella? I know we talked about this in the beginning, but the closer we get to our goal, our perspective may change on many things. So, I'd like to know, what does it mean to you now?"

Bella hated these sessions. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively; hoping to keep the irritation she felt out of her expression.

"I don't know, it's good to be healthy. And I'm happy that I am getting better…" She trailed off, not knowing what else to add.

Dr. Weber sat quietly for a few minutes, like she sometimes did, leveling Bella with a calculating gaze. She had been trying to unravel the young girl's mind for close to six months now. As a patient, Bella had been extremely pliable, yet the silent resistance she shielded herself with didn't go unnoticed by the veteran psychologist. She could sense an underlying problem deeply rooted in Bella's psyche, but she couldn't really dig deep enough to unearth it. For a meek, submissive girl, the walls she had put up around her were impressively effective. Compliance was her weapon of choice. She kept her mind impenetrable while acquiescing to nearly every instruction and question that was directed at her.

Dr. Weber could read the signs well enough. Her patient was lying to her – both directly and by omission. But confronting her with the accusation would only drive her further within herself. That was not her intention. Her concern wasn't _that_ Bella was lying, but _why _she was lying. After six months, she had her list of speculations, but nowhere near to confirming any of her theories.

"I understand it was your birthday yesterday, yes?" Dr. Weber decided to shift the direction of their conversation.

Bella looked puzzled. She looked around the room as if expecting to find someone eavesdropping on them. "How do you know that?" she asked with suspicion.

Dr. Weber noted her reaction with interest and then answered, "It's in your file, right here. It was given to me along with your medical history. Why does the idea of me knowing your birthday bother you?"

"It doesn't." Bella shook her head to make a point, "I was just surprised, that's all,"

Bella reflected back to Sylvia Cope's interference the day before. The incident made her edgy, and she regretted making her discomfort apparent to Dr. Weber. She quickly stole a glance at the clock; only twenty minutes had passed since they had started. They had thirty more minutes to go.

_Damn._

"What did you do for your birthday, Bella?" Dr. Weber asked.

"Nothing much, I stayed in mostly. It's not really that important…I don't celebrate my birthday," Bella replied, hoping the doctor would drop the topic soon.

"Has it always been that way? What about when you were little?"

Bella squirmed in her place. Why was Dr. Weber fixating on her birthday all of a sudden? What relevance did it have to anything? It made no sense to her.

"My mom used to bake me a cake every year. One time my dad took me to Seattle, to see the Space Needle; I was five," Bella volunteered.

"We didn't have a lot money for big parties or presents. But my mom would always make me something special, and my dad would bring home these boxes of licorice, you know the black ones that are shaped like fish? Those were my favorites. They didn't sell them in Forks, but my dad would drive to Port Angeles to get them for me. He did that every year, until his stroke. But mom never stopped, she always made me something. Nothing too crazy; cookies or cupcakes, whatever I'd wish for," she added with a dreamy look in her eyes, reminiscing about events that she hardly ever thought about anymore; not quite sure what made her so loquacious all of a sudden.

"When did that stop?" Dr. Weber asked.

"When my parents moved to Florida, three years ago," Bella answered, coming back to the reality of the room.

"So, what you said earlier about not celebrating your birthday- it's a relatively recent thing then?" Dr. Weber pointed out.

Bella cursed herself for stupidly talking herself into a corner. She didn't even realize how she was reeling out the rope to hang herself with.

"It's not like that, I'm an adult now. You asked about when I was little," Bella defended.

"Did you speak with them yesterday? Did you call, or did they call you?" Dr. Weber continued on.

Bella nodded. "Yah, my mom called."

"What about your dad?"

"I spoke to him too."

"And your husband?"

Bella's voice faltered a little before she could answer, "Yes, he wished me a happy birthday too."

She looked away. If she wasn't thrilled about the topic of conversation before, she was thoroughly disliking it now. She didn't like the way the doctor roped her husband into the mix at all. Bella resolved to be more careful with her words for the remaining duration of the session.

Sensing Bella's guard going up, Dr. Weber chose to switch her strategy once more.

"How are things going with the drinking? You're still adhering to the plan, right?"

"Yes." Bella nodded quickly, slightly relieved at the shift of questioning. This was a much more familiar territory for her; she knew most of the correct answers.

"How is that going for you? Is it difficult still?"

"Things are ok, I guess. It's not so bad." Bella knew better than to sound too blasé; that wouldn't be convincing.

"Tell me, what do you miss about it? Do you miss the taste? The way it used to make you feel? What do you miss the most?" Dr. Weber asked carefully.

"I don't know," Bella hedged, "the buzz maybe…"

"If the 'buzz' that you say you liked about drinking could be made into pill, would you take it?"

That was a trick question and Bella knew it a mile away.

"Of course not, I don't want to be a junkie," she asserted vehemently.

"No, of course not," Dr. Weber repeated.

"Have you thought about what we discussed a couple of weeks ago? About you joining an AA meeting? Did you give it any more thought?" the doctor asked. She had been trying to ease Bella into the idea of attending group meetings, but hadn't been successful so far.

"Uhh…no, I don't think it's right for me. I don't want to go to those meetings. I'm fine right here." Bella shook her head. Even if she wasn't concerned about the risk of public exposure involved in this endeavor, the idea of talking amidst a bunch of strangers didn't hold any appeal to her at all. Holding up a front for Mrs. Cope and Dr. Weber was tiring enough; she didn't want the extra work that would come with dealing with a whole group of people.

"In many respects, you're doing fine, I agree. But, I am concerned about the long-term management of the problem. If you're worried about a media frenzy, I assure you these meetings are very discreet. And if you aren't comfortable to open up in a group environment, I could arrange for you to meet with a sponsor. He or she would be the only person you meet. They can provide you with a great support system, Bella. Staying bottled up the way you're doing may work for you in the short-term, but you will reach a point, sooner or later, when the pressure will crush you."

Bella continued to shake her head. "I don't think so. I'm doing everything you ask. I don't drink anymore; I eat when I'm supposed to. Why do I have to talk to another stranger? I don't want to talk to anyone else," she stated decisively.

Dr. Weber didn't expect a dramatically different response. She noted down her observations with a thoughtful expression. Bella seldom said no to any of her suggestions, but the ones she declined she tended to be quite determined about.

"Nonetheless, I would want you to keep it in mind, and I'd like us to revisit the matter at a later date, ok?" Dr. Weber insisted.

"Ok," Bella agreed.

The remaining time of their session passed by with relative ease.

Towards the end of their time together, Dr. Weber brought up a matter that she'd been intending to broach for a while, "Bella, I know we decided in the beginning to focus primarily on you for the most part, but I really think at this stage it would be beneficial for everyone if Mr. Cullen participated in a few of our sessions. Do you think you could ask him if he'd like to sit in with us next time?" Dr. Weber asked.

Bella felt trapped. Dr. Weber had been hinting at holding joint sessions for some time now. She'd been asking her how she'd feel about having her husband present while they spoke. Bella countered those queries by pointing out her husband's busy schedule. She didn't like what the doctor was suggesting. It meant she would have to seek him out and instigate a conversation. Sitting through fifty minutes with Dr. Weber was bad enough, having her husband present the entire time would be excruciating. She'd be second guessing herself whenever she'd have to say anything, and knew her husband wouldn't like how it would appear to the doctor.

"If you like, I could talk to Mr. Cullen directly. But you surely have much easier access to his schedule than I do, no?" Dr. Weber offered.

Neither option appealed to her. Maybe her husband would prefer not to be caught off guard by Dr. Weber, Bella thought.

"I'll ask him but he is very busy, so it might not be possible anytime soon," Bella offered, already regretting her decision.

"I'm aware what a busy man he is. I wouldn't mind shuffling my calendar if he can only make it on a day that is outside of our regular slot. I'm sure he would want to make the time for you. He seemed to care a great deal for you," the doctor said, while carefully observing Bella's reaction.

Bella kept her face impassive and then nodded her head. "Ok."

"Bella, I would like us to talk about your husband in our next session. Is that alright with you?" Dr. Weber spoke the words slowly; the nearly imperceptible way Bella flinched at the suggestion didn't go unnoticed by her.

"Nothing too personal, unless you want to talk about it. Just general things, like how did you two meet? What kind of a wedding did you have? Ways in which he has been supportive of you these past six months. Whatever comes to mind. I think it would be a good warm up exercise for the time he joins us. I would like you to think about that for our next session, ok?" Dr. Weber asked.

"But we already talked about that…months ago. You asked me all of those and I told you already!" Bella responded with puzzlement.

"We talked about your college, and you told me you met him right around the time you went to school at UW. I would like us to focus more on him this time, if that's alright with you," Dr. Weber clarified.

Bella wanted to decline, but that would be a dead giveaway. She fidgeted a little, without intending to, and then nodded her head in acceptance. She'd have to find a way to get through it. It wouldn't be any worse that having him present in the room –provided he chose to come, of course.

After the good doctor left, Bella wandered back to her room. She felt oddly at home here, despite the brutal memories it held. She knew Sylvia would come looking for her soon enough about dinner. Snuggling into the pillows, she lay in her bed while waiting for the older woman to come and get her.

Her thoughts returned to what Dr. Weber suggested. She wondered if the fleeting encounter she had with her husband as a fifteen year-old would fit the bill of how they met… probably not. Looking at the raindrops that were pelting her window, she allowed her mind to wander back in time to when fate brought her face to face with Carlisle Cullen again when she was eighteen. Just like the time of their first introduction, the event was riddled with numerous 'what ifs'.

What if she didn't write that damn essay for her college application?

What if she picked a different subject for her essay?

What if she didn't make it to class that day when Mr. Berty came by to get the waiver forms signed?

So many variables that so easily could have pushed her life towards a different direction. But that wasn't meant to be.

Laying await for Sylvia's call, she let memories take her back to a time when things were simpler, and she wasn't the broken, beaten, shell of a human being that she was now; she thought of the day her husband noticed her for the first time.

**Important AN****: Miraculously enough, I have gotten a nomination as a Best New Author at the Avant Garde Award (Round 1). I am rightfully flabbergasted! But what made this event significantly more joyous for me is that some of my dearest friends here are nominated too. The polls will be open through 22****nd**** May - 4****th**** June. I beg you to spare five minutes to cast your vote for these amazing people. My nominated friends are:**

**Secrets and Lies by BellaScotia (Hall of Fame, Best Kid, and Best Rosalie)**

**Bring on the Wonder by Bronzehyperion (Best Edward and Best Must Read)**

**Price of a Broken Heart by MrsEdwardCullenP (Charlie and Best Kid)**

**Marital Psychosis by AELGP (Best Jacob and Best Realistic Lemon) **

**Perhaps Not to Be by mamasutra (pretty much every single category!)**

**My Heart's Redemption by MyDaughterBella (Best Canon Pairing)**

**Control by I Need a Life Bad (Best Non-canon Pairing and Best Rosalie)**

**pixie-belle88 (Best New Author)**

**I humbly request you to go to the link below on the 22****nd**** May and vote for these brilliant people. Not only are they vastly talented, but they are awesome and kind as well. And while you are there, vote for me too – if you think I deserve it! Hehe!**

**The link to the Avant Garde Award is: http:/www (dot)avantgardeawards(dot)com/**

**Story rec: Love in Idleness by twanza. If you are familiar with her previous stories, you already know how crafty and skillful she is with words. If you haven't, then please check out this gem of a story. It's surprisingly uplifting and magically addictive. **

**http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6960328/1/**

**Thank you for reading and giving me a chance. Each and every review I receive is precious to me. They make my day and help me survive the work week. **

**Thanks to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Check out her story The Long Walk Home. It's quite the epic.**


	6. Chapter 6

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 5:

Laying await for Sylvia's call, she let memories take her back to a time when things were simpler, and she wasn't the broken, beaten, shell of a human being that she was now; she thought of the day her husband noticed her for the first time.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

**Bella, age 15**

After the surprise visit by their savior, it took a while for Renee and Bella to pull themselves out of their shocked stasis. For the longest time, all they could do was to stare at each other with disbelief. Finally, Renee pulled Bella into a tight hug, exhaling a sigh of relief and hope – the first one, it seemed like, since she got that phone call from Billy two days ago. She cupped her daughter's face in her hands and told her through a tearful smile, "Everything will be ok, baby. Thank God, everything will be ok."

She then turned to Charlie's resting form and moved closer to him to place a kiss on his forehead. She held his hand in hers and whispered to him, "Honey, I wish you were awake to hear what just happened. Everything will be ok, sweetheart. You just have to get well and come home to us. We don't have to worry about the money, or the meds. Just get better, ok?"

Whatever feeling of disbelief that had lingered at the back of their minds was quickly dispelled when they noticed the renewed buzz among the hospital staff about Charlie's case. Dr. Green, along with the Chief of Cardiology, dropped by and had more of a heart-to-heart conversation with Renee. The nurses checked in on Charlie more frequently than they had the day before. Most telling of all, within forty minutes of Carlisle Cullen's visit, Charlie was moved to a private room, which was larger and nicer, with no one else to share it with.

Renee was reeling from the sudden windfall and could hardly keep still from her jittering. With the colossal weight of Charlie's healthcare cost lifted from her shoulders, she could at least see herself getting through this ordeal with her family intact, quite possibly even with her daughter's college fund untouched.

Neither woman could stop talking about what had just happened. They both wondered why Charlie had never said anything about how generous and kindhearted his employer was. Charlie never talked much about his work. It wasn't that he hated his job, but he had always been quite tight lipped about his day once he returned home to his family. Renee and Bella had always assumed it was due to the tedious nature of his job, or his lack of interest in letting work cut into the time he had with his wife and daughter. Given what had just transpired, it was strange how little Renee really knew about the man who employed her husband for nearly as long as he'd been married to her. Bella suggested that maybe it was Billy who had appealed to Mr. Cullen's charitable side on their behalf, as when he visited them the day before, he'd mentioned starting a collection pool for Charlie.

They talked about future plans, including how they'd have to divide up caregiving responsibilities, since even if Mr. Cullen took care of Charlie's hospital bills and medications, they would still be short on income for a while. Charlie had always been the principle provider of their little family unit, while Renee's pay check from her part-time job helped out with the peripheral costs. With him out of commission, Renee would have to find a full-time position someplace soon to compensate for the loss. She didn't know where or how she'd find such work in this small town of theirs, but that wasn't as pressing a problem anymore.

Once she started working, she'd need Bella to pick up some slack at home with regards to her dad's care; after her school hours of course. Bella readily agreed, and asked about the professional in-home care the doctor's suggested they arrange for Charlie. She reminded her mother that Mr. Cullen had asked them to prepare a list of expenses to show his representative, whom he said would be visiting them the next day. Perhaps the cost of a visiting nurse should be on the list?

Grateful for her daughter's presence of mind, Renee spent the next hours preparing the list with her.

"Mom, don't you think he looks like a movie star?" Bella asked her mother with sheepish, starry eyes once the discussion winded down a little. Her cheeks still felt hot from when she'd looked at his face.

"I know, he looks just like Tom Cruise, but taller…and better looking. Oh my God! We are so bad," Renee mockingly admonished their own quips, covering her face to snuff a giggle that threatened to escape. She felt bad immediately for having such a frivolous thought while sitting right next to her husband's sick bed.

Bella too, felt sufficiently embarrassed. She brushed aside her juvenile thoughts and tried to focus on the task at hand. They might have been given a very generous bail-out package, but they were still very much in hot water. Charlie's convalescence and managing their family would be a great burden for Renee alone. Bella knew she needed to be strong to lend a hand, and she had set her mind to do that no matter what. However, she wasn't able to exorcise completely the dream-like perfection of the man's face from her mind. They refused to go on exile and kept popping up in her head randomly, and if she were to be completely honest, she'd have to admit that she didn't really want to rid her mind of these errant images. He was a vision to behold, and by far, he was the most magnificent sight she had ever laid eyes upon.

That evening, Billy Black came to visit. He was perplexed as to why Charlie had been moved to a private room, and he asked Renee as much as soon as he located them. Renee filled him in enthusiastically about what had transpired earlier that day; the surprise visit from Carlisle Cullen, his generous offer to pay Charlie's medical bills and maybe even some way into his long term care. Billy was surprised to hear that. Apparently he had no idea that his employer was going to make such a grand charitable gesture.

She moved them to the sitting space in the corner of the room and launched into her own barrage of questions that she'd been struggling to hold back.

"Billy, how come you or Charlie never talked about how nice he is? And so young! How old is he? I thought Mr. Cullen was much older," Renee bombarded Billy with questions that she could no longer hold back.

"No, he's not that old. He just likes to keep to himself. I mean, seriously. All of us working at the house, we signed a confidentiality contract when we started; Charlie too. It actually spells out that talking about him, or anything we come to learn as a result of our work at his house, is grounds for firing. And he enforces that too.

"A few years back, a maid leaked to some reporters what shampoo Mr. Cullen uses or some shit, and I think she also tried to sell pictures of his bedroom. She got fired on the spot! No chance to explain her side, no nothing. He's a bit anal about it.

"You said someone's going to bring you paperwork? I bet good money he will make you sign a non-disclosure too," Billy said while thinking the situation through.

Renee considered what Billy had explained to her, trying to take in all that she was being told. All these years she thought her husband didn't enjoy talking shop at home, she never suspected that Charlie was refraining from speaking about his place of work on purpose. On some level, she understood why a man of Mr. Cullen's position would value his privacy, however strange it may seem to 'common' people like them. If discretion was the only price he asked in return for saving their collective financial hide, then it was a fair enough arrangement. She decided to ask something pertinent instead, "Do you know if he normally helps people out like this? Or is Charlie a special case?"

Billy looked uncertain. He scratched his head before replying, "Honestly, I don't really know what's normal for him. I've worked there for nearly as long as Charlie, and in all those years he'd said maybe ten words to me…I'm not saying he is mean, but he doesn't go out of his way to talk to the staff.

"As for whether he did this for anyone else, gee Renee, I don't know. I haven't seen him rubbing shoulders with any of us. But I heard from the housekeeper that Mr. Cullen bought a house for the old lady who used to manage the estate before her, and set her up for life too. Of course, she doesn't know this for sure, and I already told you how he feels about us gossiping. I wish could tell you more, but that man really keeps to himself."

Renee wasn't sure what to make of this. The man she met hours ago seemed compassionate, if a little aloof. To her, he didn't appear to be someone who would purposefully make people feel that they were beneath him. But arguably, her perspective on the matter was somewhat eschewed, and he was in the room for all of ten minutes. She could hardly claim to know the man better than Billy did.

"But, you don't think he would go back on his offer, do you?" Renee voiced her fear.

"No, I don't think so. The man has more money than a king; he won't miss the cash, trust me. This is probably pocket change for him," Billy said encouragingly.

Renee nodded her head hopefully. "I hope you are right,"

That night, both mother and daughter slept a little better, feeling safe in the knowledge that the worst of the crisis had been averted. While they'd still need to tighten their belt to make it to the other side, thanks to their unexpected benefactor, they wouldn't have to do it with an empty stomach or without a roof over their heads.

In the morning, Renee resolutely put her foot down that no way Bella was to miss another school day. As Bella started collecting her things and grabbing some food to have on her way to school, their phone rang. Renee spoke on the phone for a few minutes and then hung up to tell Bella that as promised, Carlisle Cullen's emissary had called to request a time to come and meet with her. She had told the man he was welcome to come by that morning before she left to visit Charlie. Understandably, she seemed nervous about the meeting.

"Mom, how about I catch school from half time today? I'd like to be here when he comes. Please, Mom?" Bella appealed to her mother.

It didn't take much convincing to get Renee to relent, given how she wasn't too keen on going through the meeting all alone. "Ok, but only this one time. I will drop you off at school when I go to the hospital. You have a lot of catching up to do."

In preparation of receiving their visitor, they spent the morning cleaning up the house a little. Up keep of the house hadn't been at the forefront of their minds, and it had become quite dusty and cluttered in the span of just a few days.

Just as Bella was stowing away the dust pan in the closet under the stairs, she heard the doorbell ring. Renee quickly checked her reflection in the mirror beside the door before answering the door. A well dressed man in his thirties stood at the entrance.

"Mrs. Swan, I presume? We spoke on the phone; I'm Harold Jenks, from Jenks and Cohen Law Firm. We represent Mr. Carlisle Cullen in his personal finances. I believe you have been expecting me. I am here to explain a few things to you, and then I have some documents for you sign. May I come in?" the man asked politely.

Renee invited him into their modest living room and signaled him to the threadbare sofa. "Please take a seat Mr. Jenks. I really appreciate you coming all the way here."

"No problem at all, it's what I do," said Mr. Jenks as he took the offered seat.

Renee noticed Bella hesitating by the door and motioned her in.

"This is our daughter, Isabella," Renee introduced her.

"How do you do? It's nice to meet you, sir," Bella muttered.

"Likewise, Isabella," Mr. Jenks said with a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"Is it ok if she sits with us?" Renee questioned.

"Of course, feel free to join us or ask any questions you may have. The better informed you all are, the easier my work will be," he politely replied before beginning to pull out papers from the briefcase he was carrying.

"But before we begin, I'd like to say how sorry I am about your husband. I can't imagine what a difficult time it must be for you. I apologize for intruding at a time of such family crisis, but I hope the news I bring will ease your mind to some degree," he said as he looked from Renee to Bella.

He had a soothing voice and a clever way of vocalizing his words. He reminded Bella of all the fancy attorneys she'd seen on television shows; sleek and polished, and very sure of himself. Something about the man reminded her of Carlisle Cullen; the sure footedness and easy grace with which he swept the room with his eyes, and how he seemed to own the room simply by being in it.

Renee nodded her head in understanding and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"Mrs. Swan, I am sure you are already aware of this, Mr. Cullen has decided that he will bear all expenses connected to Charlie Swan's medical care. He has also taken into consideration how the loss of future income might impact your family due to him becoming incapacitated, and chose to continue paying what Mr. Swan normally receives as a salary; a pension, if you may. I realize that his job originally did not come with a pension plan, but such are Mr. Cullen's wishes. I hope this will relieve some of your worries," he said with a smile, taking in the surprised gasps from the women before him.

Renee reached for Bella's hand and grasped it in hers tightly. This certainly was sounding too good to be true.

"What? Are you sure? You're telling me that he will keep Charlie on the payroll? Even though he might never go back to work?" Renee asked incredulously.

"Not quite, Mrs. Swan. Charlie will have to be removed from the company's payroll. This is a…gift, if you may, that he will be receiving from Mr. Cullen's personal funds. Since Mr. Swan is in no shape to handle his own finances at the moment, as his primary beneficiary, it will be payable to you. You can consider it him going into an early retirement with a pension," he explained with an indulging smile.

"This is…this is very generous. Wow! It's quite a lot to take in." Renee sounded flustered. "I mean, thank you. I'm very grateful. Truly grateful, but I need to ask, what exactly are we expected to do in return?" She hoped she worded it correctly. She didn't want to sound ungracious, but when something appeared to be too good to be true, more often than not, it was. Carlisle Cullen's promise to take care of Charlie's medical costs was unthinkably generous in itself, but for him to provide for her family's livelihood for the foreseeable future was unbelievable. Why was he doing this? What did he want in return? What did they have that could be of any value to someone like Carlisle Cullen?

Harold Jenks expected her skepticism. "That's why I am here Mrs. Swan, to explain to you the terms and conditions of this arrangement. I'd like to assure you that Mr. Cullen doesn't expect you to do anything but carry on like you always have. But you need to be very clear on a number of issues: first, what Mr. Cullen is offering you is assistance on compassionate grounds. He is not legally obligated to do this, nor should he be pressured for more. This is not an entitlement. I will need you to sign a waiver before I leave that would confirm that you understand that.

"Second, like all his employees, Mr. Swan vowed to preserve and protect the privacy of the Cullen home when he began his employment. It is a critical part of this deal that you continue to uphold that. Mr. Cullen is fiercely protective of his privacy. Anything Mr. Swan has learned through his years of work at the Cullen estate must remain private. If you, or anyone from your family, choose to speak to the media, and as a result if anything about Mr. Cullen ends up in the gossip magazines, however trivial it may be, will make this arrangement null and void. No exceptions, no second chances. You must give this to me in writing too. I have the paperwork with me for you to read and sign.

"Finally, you will have to provide me with a list of expense areas which you will be reimbursed for. I already have all direct medical expenditures listed here." He extended a piece of paper towards Renee. "I am authorized to add more categories, if needed; indirect expenses, for example. Like perhaps the cost of retrofitting your house to make it wheelchair friendly; things like that. Once we agree on this list, I will sign off on it, and in future you'd only be able to request reimbursement on those items. I encourage you to think about it carefully, so we have as complete a list as possible. Revising this at a later date might not be as straightforward."

He took a deep breath after his long speech. He sat back, allowing Renee to take in the implications of his words.

Surprisingly, knowing the gift came with certain rules and conditions made it more acceptable to Renee, though the terms seemed ridiculously easy. She had no intention of overstepping the line or to try to take advantage of Mr. Cullen's generosity, neither did she worry about breaching any kind of privacy clause, given how she knew next to nothing about the Cullens. And agreeing on a preset list of expenses sounded only fair. She couldn't sense any ulterior motives on their benefactor's part.

She looked up and nodded at Mr. Jenks. "I understand. I'm grateful for this help; I assure you that we have no intention of asking for more. And you really don't have to worry about us speaking to anyone about Mr. Cullen. You see, we hardly know anything about him. As for a list, my daughter and I worked on making one that I could show you. I actually didn't even think about retrofitting our house. Thank you for pointing that out." She smiled nervously.

"No problem. I know it takes a while to adjust to sudden changes. I'd love to look at your list, and if you have any questions for me, I'd be happy to answer them," he reassured her.

"Well, could you give us some idea about a timeframe? I mean, how long do you think we can count on this?" Renee asked the question that weighed on her mind the most at this point.

"Mr. Cullen's instructions to me were 'for as long as it is necessary'; so in essence, this could continue indefinitely. Unless you are found to be in breach of one, or all, of the conditions."

"So, this could go on forever? Even if Charlie is never able to get back to work for the rest of his life?" Renee's voice still held traces of incredulity.

"Essentially, yes. Why don't I tell you the ways in which this arrangement could become void? Maybe that will give you a clearer picture:

"First and foremost, the easiest way to bring this to an end would be for you to tell me - right now or later, in writing - that you do not want to receive assistance any more. I am the fund administrator for this particular account, so I need to be informed by you, specifying that you wish to stop the payments.

"The second best way would be for you to sue Mr. Cullen, or try and extort a more generous package. I can tell you right now, you do not have any legal grounds for that. Should you choose to pursue that route, you will lose and be cut off from all monitory support immediately.

"Thirdly, trying to capitalize on any personal knowledge you or Mr. Swan may have about the Cullens, would be a sure fire way to dissolve this deal.

"Fourth, though less likely, is if Mr. Cullen's business enterprises are liquidated in the unforeseen event of a financial collapse. Simply put, if he loses his fortunes, he won't be able to support you.

"Finally, and this is important, Mr. Cullen has the right to withdraw his gift anytime he chooses to. Yes, the chances of him doing that without provocation are extremely slim. But nonetheless, you need to understand that it is, and always will be, his prerogative. I am not saying this to scare you, or to suggest that Mr. Cullen is a fickle man. He isn't. He isn't in the habit of going back on the commitments he makes. If you don't give him any reason to reconsider his decision, chances are good that this arrangement will last a very long time."

He stopped after his long spiel and watched Renee's reaction. She seemed to be coming to terms with everything finally. She appeared calmer than she did when he arrived.

"Thank you for explaining all of this to me. I understand the conditions and I accept them. I'm really grateful for this help; we all are. Please let Mr. Cullen know that we will not do anything to upset him, or give him any reason to regret his decision. Also, you should know that I don't intend on living off of his generosity forever. As soon as I have a little more control over things and I find a full time job, I will let you know," Renee said with a strong resolve.

"That is completely up to you, Mrs. Swan. It wouldn't be advisable for you to be too hasty in pulling the plug though. Think things through very carefully when the time comes. It's not something you'd be able to reconstruct again, if scrapped prematurely," he warned.

"I understand," she affirmed.

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't been a very good host. In order to correct the oversight she said, "Oh dear, where are my manners? Could I offer you something to drink, Mr. Jenks? Some coffee or tea perhaps?"

"Actually, coffee would be really nice, thank you. Maybe we could go over the expense list over coffee? Also, some caffeine would be good for my drive back to Seattle."

"Of course, I'll be right back." Renee left the room to fetch her list and bring the drinks for their guest. She signaled for Bella to stay and keep their guest company.

Bella had been sitting quietly through the exchange. The picture her mind drew of the elusive Carlisle Cullen was better rooted in reality now, but it was no less magical in texture. She couldn't fathom the designs or intentions of this god-like being. Surely all rich people weren't so kind.

"Mr. Jenks, can I ask you something?" She braved her nerves to ask what she hoped he'd be able answer.

Harold Jenks had nearly forgotten about the gangly adolescent present in the room. He looked at her and said indulgingly, "Of course, my dear…Isabella, right? Please, ask away."

"Why is he helping us?" she asked meekly.

Harold Jenks smiled at her and replied, "Mr. Cullen is a very wealthy man, Isabella. It's not my job to question his reasons. Maybe your father made an exceptionally good impression with his work? I'm afraid only he'd be able to tell you for certain."

"Does he help a lot of families like ours?" she persisted.

"I can't discuss what my client does with his personal funds, but I can tell you this, the philanthropic division of his company is arguably the largest in the private sector. He is a very charitable man," he explained.

Bella nodded and made a mental note to thoroughly research 'philanthropic' and 'private sector' later at the library. She vaguely knew what they meant, but she wanted to know everything about the man who had just saved her family from destitution, and she wanted to know things accurately. Hearing Mr. Jenks confirm that he was a generous man made her deliriously happy inside. He was their godsend, who chose to save them, even though he had no obligation to do so. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she looked away to keep it from Mr. Jenks' sight.

Renee returned soon after with the coffee and they carried on their discussion on what more should be added to the list and how Renee preferred to be reimbursed. She was given the name and contact information of the person who was to be in charge of their case at Mr. Cullen's company. All bills and reimbursement requests were to be addressed to him. Harold Jenks was only to be contacted if she needed to revise the expense categories, or if she wanted to conclude the arrangement. Finally, once all paperwork was done, and she had jotted her name on all the documents that needed her signature, Harold Jenks took his leave with polite parting words.

"Thank you for the coffee, Mrs. Swan. I wish you all the best with your husband's care. If all goes well, you won't have to see me ever again. Let's hope for the best, shall we?" he said with a smile and drove away, leaving the two women with plenty on their minds.

It was nearly early afternoon and Renee agreed that there was little point in Bella making it to school that late. Bella was grateful for the reprieve. She was lost in her thoughts of Carlisle Cullen and what his benevolence meant for her life. Her father would receive the care he needed, her mother wouldn't have to work two jobs to keep them fed, and most likely she would be able to go to college someday. She was indebted to him forever. Even if they could, by some miracle, become self reliant in the near future, it would not negate what his support meant for them today. She felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and her eyes teared up.

She asked to stay home that day when Renee drove out to see her father at the hospital. She spent the day cooped up in her room, trying to think of ways she would someday be able to repay Carlisle Cullen.

**AN****: As mentioned in the last AN, the Avant Garde Award Round 1 voting is still going on and will stay open till 4****th**** June. Please vote for your favorite story. I have been nominated in the category of Best New Author. If you like my story and think that I deserve the nod, please vote for me. I'd be immensely grateful.**

**Heck, please go and vote even if you don't like my story. Just vote, make someone's day. I happen to have the privilege to know some of the nominees. They are amazing people and definitely deserve your vote. You will find their names and details in my last AN. **

**The link to the Avant Garde Award is: http:/www (dot)avantgardeawards(dot)com/**

**Thank you for reading and giving me a chance. Each and every review I receive is precious to me. They make my day and help me survive the work week. So make my day and share your thoughts! It's not that hard…I hope! You can find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming. Come and chat with me.**

**Thanks to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Check out her story The Long Walk Home. It's quite the epic.**


	7. Chapter 7

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 6:

It was nearly early afternoon and Renee agreed that there was little point in Bella making it to school that late. Bella was grateful for the reprieve. She was lost in her thoughts of Carlisle Cullen and what his benevolence meant for her life. Her father would receive the care he needed, her mother wouldn't have to work two jobs to keep them fed, and most likely she would be able to go to college someday. She was indebted to him forever. Even if they could, by some miracle, become self reliant in the near future, it would not negate what his support meant for them today. She felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and her eyes teared up.

She asked to stay home that day when Renee drove out to see her father at the hospital. She spent the day cooped up in her room, trying to think of ways she would someday be able to repay Carlisle Cullen.

* * *

><p>Chapter 7<p>

**Bella, age 15-17**

The life at the Swan household fell back into a relatively easy rhythm in the weeks following Harold Jenks visit. Bella returned to school but Renee wasn't able to get her job back at the post office right away. Her worries diminished to a great extent the day she received the first pension check. Charlie was released from the hospital after two days shy of three weeks. After speaking to a few contractors, Renee hired a local crew of home renovators to remodel the house to make it wheelchair friendly.

The practical aspects of their new life became routine fairly quickly. The emotional weight of the change, however, took longer to adjust to. Charlie Swan, who had been a fairly active man his whole life, struggled to accept his frail, withered body that failed to obey his wishes anymore. Adding to this, his initial inability to properly articulate words crushed his spirits so much that he refused to communicate verbally, making his treatment that much more difficult in the early days of his convalescence . The crushing knowledge that he was now an invalid, and that he and his family were dependent on charity for their very survival, wrecked havoc in his mind with nearly the same ferocity the hemorrhaged blood had done to his brain.

His depression was understandable and expected, and his doctors made a point to have him seek emotional counseling, in tandem with physical and speech therapy, as part of his recuperation regimen. However, the mental hardship it posed on Renee and Bella was not as obvious but nearly just as debilitating at times.

Renee had met Charlie while they were both in their teens and he had been her protector ever since. Once they got married, not too long after finishing high school, he had become the principle provider; he had seamlessly assumed the position of the head of the household, making all the major decisions regarding their life and future, and Renee was perfectly happy following his lead. Being forced to step into his shoes all of a sudden, left her feeling out of breath most of the time. Seeing her husband lying in the bed, helpless as a child, not knowing if he would ever be the man he once was, took its toll. She managed to keep it together, but only just. She found herself relying more and more on her daughter to lessen her load.

Bella, having inherited much of her father's protective instinct, fit into the role surprisingly quickly. In many ways, she became a grown up within the span of a few weeks, going from being an average, carefree teen to a level-headed, responsible caregiver who was mature beyond her years.

She quietly shuffled her priorities, setting aside her erstwhile hobbies and leisure activities and replacing them with household chores and extra babysitting jobs - when time allowed. She took up the cooking responsibility from Renee the evenings she had to drive her father to and from his therapists. She spent hours sitting with Charlie, trying to coax him to talk and participate in a conversation. And once she turned sixteen and got her license to drive, she also became the designated person to pick up groceries on her way back from school.

She threw herself into her schoolwork. She knew now, more than ever, the necessity of keeping her grades up. CDs, shopping, makeovers, and catching the eye of the cutest boy in school, things that had once filled her free time, took a back seat in her new reality.

She was thankful for having Alice in her life. Like a true best friend, she stood by Bella and supported her through the transition, even though it meant they wouldn't be sharing as many frivolous and joy-filled hours in each other's company anymore. When she finally went back to school, Bella told her at length about the ordeal she had been through and the miraculous knight in shining armor who had come to their rescue.

"Carlisle Cullen himself came to see your dad? In person? Really? Wow!" Alice exclaimed as they sat together in the school cafeteria.

"You know him? Alice, how come this is the first time I'm ever hearing about this?" Bella asked back, slightly disgruntled that her friend would keep this precious nugget of information hidden from her for all this time.

"Well, no. I mean, I don't _know_ him. But I've heard my dad and uncle talk about him a while back. My uncle George, you met him at the barbeque, right? Well he works for him in Seattle, and I heard him say that the Cullens are like filthy rich; richer than Bill Gates even. Wow, Bella, you met someone famous! What is he like?" Alice asked with a naïve curiosity.

"He was there for just a few minutes, and he only spoke to Mom, but he was…so nice." Bella suddenly found herself short of words to describe what Carlisle Cullen was truly like, and it surprised her, because he had been on her mind quite often since that day. Yet, she was now floundering for words while Alice looked at her expectantly. She came to realize that her vocabulary was severely limited to accurately recount what she recalled from that day. Her first response was to say 'god-like', but she stopped herself just in time and opted for something less dramatic. She blushed a little and looked away.

"Nice, really?" Alice sounded a little disappointed. "I thought rich people were all mean and snooty. Like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. Are you sure he wasn't showing off his gold teeth and jewelry and what not?" she asked teasingly, ever the spokesperson of the downtrodden and disenfranchised.

"No." The mental vision made Bella giggle. "He didn't have gold teeth, or stupid jewelry. He really was very sweet. He talked to Mom and said how he wouldn't let anything bad happen to us, and left," she said as she felt her cheeks redden a shade deeper.

"Why are you blushing? Jeez, Bella, do you have a crush on him? Eeew! That's sick! He's like a zillion years old!" Alice could read her friend's face well enough and saw no reason to cut back on expressing her disgust.

"No! Of course not! Are you crazy?" Bella denied vehemently. "And even if I did, which I don't, he's not _that_ old," she added, unable to agree with Alice's appraisal of Carlisle. "And he looks fantastic," she emphasized.

"Yah, well he's still older than the dinosaurs!"

"He is not."

"Is too."

"No he's not, and he looks way better than your _Leo_!" Bella fought back, using Alice's near-stalker like obsession with Leonardo DiCaprio as her last resort.

Alice and Bella went to watch Titanic on a special re-release night as a treat for Alice's thirteenth birthday. Bella was yet to hear the end of ways in which Leonardo DiCaprio was a god among men. Alice's 'love affair' with _Leo_ bordered on insanity. The autographed picture of the star, which she'd procured after sending an endless chain of requests to his publicist, was the most prized possession in her poster-covered room that showed off the actor in various poses. Suggesting anyone in the world looked better than _Leo _was a sure fire way to get her attention to shift from whatever they were talking about. And it worked.

"Take that back, take that back right now! How could you say that? Have you gone blind?" Alice beseeched her desperately.

"Fine! Leo is the best looking man on the planet. Happy?" Bella relented while laughing; glad that she would no longer have to justify her fascination with Carlisle Cullen, because deep down she knew that she indeed had a crush on the man. To her, he was the vision of perfection. Not only did he own a massive fortune, but he used his riches to help others. In her eyes, that made him a far greater hero than any movie star could ever be. He was a real life hero, not someone who just pretended to be one on the screen like _Leo _as Jack in Titanic or any other Hollywood idol.

Carlisle Cullen was real, not made up, and he was breathtakingly handsome. She recalled his crystal blue eyes and blushed all over again. Yes, she had a very real crush on the man. However, she was also pragmatic enough to know that the chances of Carlisle ever noticing her as a woman were just as slim as _Leo _falling in love with Alice. She accepted that with a graceful resignation.

Nonetheless, every now and then over the course of the next few years, her subconscious would prompt her into acting out in random ways that would reinforce her ever growing enthrallment with the man. One day, a few months after Charlie's stroke while grocery shopping for her mother, Bella's eyes fell on a magazine called 'Rich & Famous' with a good looking, blond man on the cover that reminded her of Mr. Cullen. Purely on a whim, she decided to splurge three ninety-nine on the glossy piece of yellow journalism and waited with baited breath until she could get back to her room.

She flipped through the magazine, cover to cover, as soon as she was alone and then threw it into the garbage with a pouting disappointment. There wasn't a word written in there about Carlisle Cullen. She didn't know why she thought there would be, since the bold letters on the cover did not promise any such thing. Yet for some reason, the picture of the man on the magazine set something off inside her, and she couldn't stop herself from making the purchase in an irrational hope that it would contain some fairytale account of what Carlisle Cullen was up to these days. She felt tears of disillusionment prickling her eyes.

She lay down in the bed, letting her pillow soak up her tears. Of course there wasn't anything in the magazine about him. How could she forget that he didn't like to be talked about or discussed in gossip magazines? Even after he had went out of his way to make them aware of his dislike? She felt stupid and berated herself for squandering their meager grocery budget.

Unlike Alice, Bella didn't have it in her to make a spectacle of her unrequited admiration for an unattainable man. She nurtured her fixation in private and managed to not make it too obvious to the people that surrounded her. However, the next time she stumbled upon Carlisle Cullen, it was completely unexpected and it distracted her so thoroughly that she ended up burning dinner for the family.

It had been nearly two years since the day she had first met him. It was a summer's Monday and she was preparing dinner for them all, while Renee accompanied Charlie to one of his physical therapy sessions. Their eating habits had gone through a significant change following Charlie's illness. Since he had to adhere to a strict diet, it was deemed easier and cheaper if the whole family adopted it as well. While there was no doubt that it was healthier for all concerned, it didn't particularly make for mouthwatering cuisine. On that particular day, after Bella had placed the casserole in the oven, hoping that her latest experiment to make dinner more palatable would be a success, she walked into the living room to channel surf while waiting for the food to be ready.

She rapidly skimmed through the channels that were available to them and almost didn't notice the familiar face flash by in her hurry to check what was on the next one. Once her brain registered her oversight, she quickly began to press down on the channel key to move backwards, carefully checking each frame to make sure she didn't make the same mistake again. She finally found the right one. There, on PBS, she saw what she was looking for.

Carlisle Cullen was sitting in a large room with several other important looking men. He appeared to be just as beautiful as she'd remembered him, but had a much more serious expression on his face as though he was trying to concentrate on something. She watched the screen with such rapt attention that she didn't pick up much of what was being reported on the show. The camera angle shifted all too quickly and he was gone. Only then did she start listening in on the voice in the background. It was something called the Evian Summit for the G8 leaders taking place in France, and they were reporting on the innovation in industry and commerce impacting health and water resources. She didn't understand much about its significance, but gathered that Carlisle Cullen was most probably part of the delegates that represented the industry leaders. She watched the remaining ten minutes of the show, hoping that maybe they would feature him again. But she was disappointed.

She couldn't bring herself to move away from the TV even after the show was over. She stayed rooted in front of their set, hoping they'd rerun the segment eventually. That's how Renee found her when she returned home with Charlie. Their dinner had been charred to a crisp by then, and other than a sincere apology, Bella had no explanation to offer with regards to her sudden interest in PBS.

Bella's perseverance paid off and she did manage to watch the whole segment on the Evian Summit the next day. She watched it with avid interest and cherished the forty-three seconds of airtime when Carlisle Cullen occupied the screen. She learned that the man he was sitting right behind was Gerhard Schröder, the Chancellor of Germany. She wished she could tape the show, but their VCR had been broken for years. To her parents' baffled amusement, she began to watch PBS and other news shows on a regular basis. Although she never caught another glimpse of Carlisle on TV ever again, by the end of that summer she'd gathered extensive knowledge on current affairs and international politics.

Bella's dedication to her hero remained a constant and understated part of her life which very rarely found an outward expression. She didn't bring it up with Alice again, knowing for certain how she would be ridiculed ruthlessly. Nor did it seem appropriate to reveal her secret weakness to her mother.

Life moved on, and as Bella neared the end of her high school years, the pressure of impending adulthood weighed on her shoulders more and more. The school's guidance counselor, Mr. Berty, began holding preparatory sessions during after school hours for the student body who hoped to make it to college after graduation. Not too surprisingly, there were only a handful of students from Bella's graduating class who harbored any such ambitions.

Though Bella was determined to go to college and use her education to forge a path out of poverty for herself and her parents, she wasn't quite sure how exactly to go about it. She didn't know yet what field to pursue, or what courses to pick that would allow her to choose a marketable career in the future.

She considered journalism, but then she thought of her hero's aversion to reporters and quickly discarded that goal. Medical school or a life in academia wasn't an option, as it required a much longer stay in school and thus a considerably higher tuition. A business degree or accounting was eliminated because economics and math weren't her strong points. She toyed with teaching, or nursing. They weren't the highest paid professions, but they qualified one to enter the job market relatively early. She also considered the sciences. Her chemistry grades were fairly good and Mr. Berty told her that chemists could make good careers within the pharmaceutical companies.

She was undecided about many things, and was glad that she still had some time to figure things out. She wondered what Carlisle Cullen studied in school and wished she could follow in his footsteps. She could imagine that he had probably attended a fancy, ivy league school somewhere, and knew that she could never afford to attend the same campus, but the idea of specializing in the same area as he did was just as exhilarating to her.

Bella was grateful for the advice and guidance Mr. Berty provided. With his help, she narrowed down a list of colleges to apply to that had decent academic reputations and affordable tuition. Her GPA was high enough and her ACT scores were promising. But she learned quickly, that filling out application forms required a lot more time and work than she'd thought it would at first. Mr. Berty lectured them on the importance of writing a good Statement of Purpose to set their applications apart from thousands of others with similar GPAs. As a form on encouragement, he engaged the services of the English teacher, Mr. Forrester, who also moonlighted as the literary critic and editor of the local weekly newsletter 'Fresh in Forks', to publish the best essay in their fall issue.

The day Mr. Berty made the announcement, Bella was running late. She went back home after school to shuttle her father to the rec room at the community center. It took her a little longer than usual to settle Charlie in with his group of friends, and as she ran to make it to Mr. Berty's session, she hoped that she hadn't missed much. She was slightly out of breath when she took a seat next to Alice. She whispered to Bella, filling her in that they were discussing the strategic approach to essay writing. Bella was glad she hadn't missed this part. She wanted to speak to Mr. Berty to get pointers on what to write about.

Mr. Berty elaborated the importance of picking a unique topic and to imbue it with sincerity. He encouraged the students to choose a subject that they were passionate about and how that particular college could help realize their aspirations. He shared his plan on motivating the students by making a competition out of it. He then sent out a signing sheet and a waiver form for all those who were interested in taking part. Bella put her name down without a second thought. She wasn't very competitive in nature, but she was fiercely determined to get into college, and she was ready to use every single advantage she could get to increase her chances.

She spoke with Mr. Berty after the session to seek advice on how to start her essay. He repeated what he'd said during the session and added that she was welcome to meet with him with drafts and ideas anytime during the week, and that he'd be happy to give her feedback and steer her in the right direction the best he could.

Bella played with possible subjects to write her essay on, and in the weeks to come, she drafted and redrafted several versions that she discarded. She considered writing about the noble contributions teachers make, or why the nation could use more nurses or chemists, but no matter how she framed her sentences, or how carefully she chose her words, nothing really spelled out 'passion'. Mr. Berty told her so when she met him with her third draft.

She still had over a month before the deadlines closed for most universities, but not having this important part of the package ready yet made her edgy. She envied Alice who knew exactly what she wanted to study and already had her essay written, which received glowing praise from Mr. Berty. Alice was good with numbers; what she lacked in social graces, she more than made up with straight A's in math. She wanted to become an accountant, and her outlook of getting accepted at the schools of her choice was fairly good.

Alice tried to get Bella's mind off of college applications by talking her into attending their Senior Prom that spring. They hadn't been to many school socials in the past few years, including their Junior Prom. Bella felt that the time it'd take to prepare for one and the cost of buying a fancy dress, could be better spent on studies or groceries. While the financial assistance they continued to receive from Carlisle Cullen allowed them to live with their basic necessities met, it didn't leave much margin for comfort.

Renee had eventually found a job at the local diner as a waitress where she worked three nights a week, but she relied heavily on Bella to stay home with Charlie when she worked her shifts. Bella willingly sacrificed a social life to bear her share of the responsibilities. But her withdrawal from the social scene affected Alice quite badly. Bella was her only friend. Without her, Alice was uncomfortable to face the school crowd, not to mention she rarely got invited to any of the parties. Alice had her heart set on their Senior Prom and even Renee insisted that they go to the dance; their school days were numbered and she wanted Bella to experience at least some of the milestone events of teenage life before it was over.

Bella relented and was actually looking forward to dressing up and acting silly for a change. She even was asked by Tyler Crowley to be her date for the night, but she declined politely. No one had asked Alice out, and Bella wasn't about to let her best friend go to their Senior Prom alone. So, they'd decided to go together as each other's date.

The Saturday before the prom, Bella drove Alice to Port Angeles to buy something appropriate for the night. Alice had extracted a promise from Bella that she would not harp on about her college essay, nor would she bemoan the frugal spending she was about to make on a dress; at least not until after the prom. They spent several hours in search of the perfect dresses that would not only make them look gorgeous, but were easy on their pockets as well.

Neither was too keen on fashion and eventually they found something that was a good compromise between the desired looks and their wallet. They decided on a quick visit to the bookstore before heading back to Forks. As they were passing by the magazine section near the entrance of the store, Bella was stuck to the spot by the new edition of The Economist on the rack. It had Carlisle Cullen on the cover, with the word 'The Outliers' printed towards the bottom. Completely forgetting Alice's presence, Bella reached out and picked up the copy, and rapidly began to flip through the pages to find the feature story. She probably would have finished reading the whole article on the spot, but Alice shook her out of her trance, "…are you even listening to me? Hey, Bells, what's going on? I thought we were going to the sci fi section?"

"Sorry, Al. I just need to buy this first, do you mind?" Bella said as she collected her thoughts quickly. She wished Alice wasn't with her to crack fun. But she didn't want to put off purchasing the magazine; chances were, the puny newsstand at the gas station that passed for their town's only book shop didn't carry The Economist, and worse yet, she couldn't risk them getting sold out.

She paid for the magazine and tried to stash it away in her bags, but she wasn't quick enough for Alice.

"What is it? What did you get? Let me see!" Alice pulled it out of her hands to inspect it better.

"Since when do you read The Economist? I thought you hated business talk?" she asked while perusing the magazine.

"Uh…I don't. I just thought this one looked interesting…" Bella stammered as she looked away, avoiding Alice's gaze.

Alice silently flipped through the journal, and then realization dawned on her. "Bella, is this Carlisle Cullen on the cover? Is this why you went all goo-goo eyed back there? Holy smokes Bella, you still got the hots for Grandpa?" Alice began to giggle while mocking her, "Oh my God, Bella, are you serious?"

"Shut up!" Bella snatched the magazine out of Alice's clutches and stomped away from the bookstore while blushing furiously. Alice called after her as she ran to catch up.

"Hey, wait up! I'm just kidding! Let me see that thing, I didn't get a good look," Alice tried to placate Bella, though she was still laughing.

"No. Go buy your own copy if you wanna look that bad," Bella replied angrily as she made her way to their parked car.

"Bella, I was only kidding! No need to get all your 'granny' panties in a bunch!" Alice fell apart in another roll of laughter.

Bella huffed and continued walking, trying to ignore her friend who was trailing her with poorly concealed mirth in her voice.

Once inside the car, Bella tried to keep up the silent treatment, hoping it would dissuade Alice from mocking her further, but she was wrong. As soon as their car hit the highway, Alice pulled out the magazine from Bella's bag and began inspecting the cover picture while giggling.

"Put it back!" Bella ordered.

"Not a chance! So this is what Carlisle Cullen the Great looks like? Wow, nothing like what I imagined– not that I'd ever waste time thinking about _old_ dudes…" Alice couldn't help but poke another jab at her friend.

"Alice, put it back, or I swear I'll throw you out of the car and you will have to hitch a ride or walk home!" Bella warned, trying to sound as formidable as she could muster. She regretted the fact that Alice had grown out of her _Leo _fetish over time, so she could no longer use that secret weapon to mock her back.

"Ha, you don't scare me; I know you won't leave me in the middle of the highway. But fine, I'll shut up," Alice said, sounding sincere, until she added, "but before I do, can I just ask one last thing? Do you think his penis is as wrinkly as his face?"

Without another word, Bella pulled into the shoulder and stopped the engine.

"I swear Alice, if you don't shut up, I will leave and you can drive back home on your own." Her voice cracked as tears escaped her eyes. She made a motion to open the driver's side door when Alice reached out to stop her. She realized that she had crossed some kind of an invisible line with her otherwise patient and level-headed friend.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Jeez, Bella, I was just shooting off my mouth. I'm sorry, Bells. Please don't cry," Alice's own voice began to strain towards the end. Bella was her best friend, her only friend. She loved her dearly. She had no idea her words would affect Bella like they had.

After a long moment Bella restarted the car. They sat silently for few minutes before Bella decided she needed to explain something to Alice.

"We have a roof over our heads and food on our table because of that man, Alice. I will probably go to college because of him. And prom? That dress I just bought? That too is happening because of him. He saved my family, Alice. And I'd be really grateful if you didn't …" Bella's voice choked with emotions and she couldn't finish her speech, but Alice had heard enough and she understood her transgressions.

"I get it, Bella. I'm sorry. Forgive me?" Alice apologized.

Bella nodded her acceptance and they continued on for some time in companionable silence.

"You know what, you are right, he does look rather good for his age." Alice broached the topic again carefully, hoping it would make her friend happy. And she was right.

"You really think so?" Bella asked enthusiastically, all their previous quarrels forgotten.

"Yah, I do. Just look, even if they airbrushed the picture, you can tell he's got really pretty eyes," Alice reinforced.

"I know, right?" Bella gushed like the young girl that she was.

Alice nodded with a smile. She was glad she could put a little sunshine back on her friend's face.

"And nice clothes too! Come to think of it, from this angle, he looks a bit like the guy from Equilibrium," Alice added.

"Guy from what?" Bella questioned. She wasn't familiar with the reference.

"Oh, it's this sci fi movie…never mind, you won't know. Any who, he looks a lot like the hero from that movie," Alice confirmed.

The two friends chattered on as they drove home, and as Bella dropped Alice off at her house, she planted an idea in Bella's mind that would have a far reaching consequence in her life.

"Hey, why don't you write your essay about him? He's sort of a real life hero and you'll be writing from firsthand experience. Just think, if nothing, it will be totally unique," Alice spoke the fateful words before exiting the car.

Bella couldn't get those words out of her mind for the rest of the week. She thought about it as she read the magazine article; it was about corporate entities that stubbornly defied economic trends and according to the author, the Cullen name represented all such outliers. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she should write her essay about a real hero, about how positive actions of one can save the lives of many, and how she hoped to prepare herself, through her education, to have the ability to influence others' lives the same way Carlisle Cullen had hers.

Once her decision was made, she began drafting her essay and even ran a Google search to see if there were more stories like hers that could be connected to Carlisle Cullen. The search came up with surprisingly little. Other than a few reports on high level, international conferences that Carlisle Cullen had attended and a link to a Wall Street Journal article, there was nothing else.

Despite the paucity of information, Bella wrote her essay the best she could, drawing largely from her personal experience. Mr. Berty applauded her essay when she showed it to him once it was ready, and with a few minor corrections she was prepared to send out her applications to the schools she'd short listed. On a Friday afternoon following their Prom, Bella and Alice dropped off their applications at the post office, keeping their fingers crossed and wishing each other luck. University of Washington was their top pick, as it fit perfectly with their family situations. It had decent science and social sciences programs and was conveniently located only a few hours from their home town. It would be ideal on all fronts.

The summer rolled by, and as they neared graduation, both Bella and Alice were delighted to receive acceptance letters from University of Washington. Life seemed perfect and full of promise. They graduated with proud parents cheering for them from the audience.

They giddily made plans for the unfolding future, deciding to share an apartment near the campus come fall. Alice's parents, while not wealthy by any means, had sufficient means to put her through college so she wouldn't have to take up work on the side. But Bella's college fund was barely enough to meet the tuition and books. She would have to take up part-time work to make up for living expenses. Even though the distance was not prohibitive, the cost of gas sure was, so visiting her parents every weekend would not be possible, but she still vowed to make the drive every other weekend at least.

Renee knew the time was near for her to let go of the crutch that she'd relied on for so long, and she was happy to see Bella stretch her wings. It wasn't unknown to her the ways in which Bella had sacrificed most of her teen years to be a supportive daughter. She hated herself for not being a better mother, and wished she could set her daughter off on her way with more provisions for her upcoming journey, but the very thought of Bella getting the chance in life that she or her husband never had, filled her heart with joy and hope. She understood that life without Bella would be difficult to say the least, and she knew she would flounder to cover all bases by herself at first, but finally she felt she was ready to face that challenge.

Over the last three years, Charlie had become ambulatory enough to operate his wheelchair within the house, and didn't need a nurse to visit him for in-home care as much. His speech had cleared up considerably, though he still preferred to speak as little as possible. The few words he spoke were usually to his daughter. The day she graduated, on a rare spurt of enthusiasm, he told her, "You made me so proud Bells. I wish I could be the father you deserved...and needed. But I want you to go and live your life now. Think you can do this one thing for me?"

Bella sat by his wheelchair on the floor and leaned into his shoulder. "I don't want anyone better, Dad. You are the best father in the world. And I love you. Promise me you'll take care of yourself when I'm gone. Promise me you will listen to Mom, and won't give those guys at the therapy center a hard time?"

He nodded his head silently and hugged his daughter with his good arm. Both had tears streaming down their faces.

Bella was ready for college, and for the first time in a long time, she felt optimistic about the future. Everything she wanted for herself and her family, everything she wished she could do to give them an easier life; all seemed within reach. She couldn't wait to jump in and fight for it. She channelled this agitated energy to earn some pocket money before school started in fall and took up a waitressing job at the diner where Renee worked.

Two weeks before her planned departure, Bella came home from the diner and knew something was wrong the moment she walked in. Renee was sitting at the kitchen table, holding her head in her hands. Her entire posture screamed disaster.

"Mom, what's wrong? Is Dad ok?" Bella asked with trepidation.

Renee raised her head and silently pushed a large envelope across the table towards her. Bella picked it up and took out the typed up letter that lay within. It was a letter from Harold Jenks, the man she had met three years ago.

In concise, targeted words, he informed them that all forms of financial assistance that they'd been receiving until then would now be revoked, due to the breach of one of the clauses on their part.

She was utterly confused and read the letter again.

"What does this mean? What breach? What is he talking about?" she frantically asked Renee.

"This came with it..." Renee said in a dead voice as she pointed at something on the table that looked like a glossy magazine. Bella took a closer look. It was a copy of 'Fresh in Forks', a local weekly newsletter. She was familiar with it, but couldn't see how these two things could be connected. He picked up the magazine and flipped through it, until she came onto a page that had a section highlighted with a marker pen. It was her essay. As promised by Mr. Berty, the winner of the competition got to see their handy work in print. Bella looked at it with baffled eyes as realization dawned upon her.

"What were you thinking, Bella? You're not stupid. Why did you do this? You knew this would happen. You were there, you were sitting right there when that guy explained it all to us. Didn't you think once what would happen to me, or to your dad? What am I going to do now?" Renee asked hysterically, but in a hushed tone, indicating that Charlie was awake somewhere in the house and wasn't yet aware of this development.

Bella could hear the distinct sound of the world falling apart around her. Renee had always claimed that their dependence on charity was a temporary thing and that as soon as she managed to get a better grip over things, she would put an end to it and pick up the reins of their family. However, that day never came. She never found a job that paid enough to free them from their chains and she never managed to set aside enough to have any form of safety net to see them through a rough spot. She was just as ill prepared today as she was three years ago.

"I'm sorry Mom...I didn't know they were going to...I mean I knew they might, but that was before I was going to write that and I just forgot to withdraw my waiver...oh Mom, I'm really sorry," Bella stammered to give an explanation, but she didn't see how her mother could forgive her when she couldn't excuse it herself.

_What have I done? I have messed everything up! How will I fix this? My mother and father will suffer because of me. How could I be so careless?_

Renee stood up and walked away without acknowledging Bella's plea.

"Mom," Bella called out.

"Mom, please. I will fix this; somehow. Please Mom, don't be mad. I'll find a way, I promise," Bella said with lot more confidence in her voice than she felt.

Renee paused.

"What will you do? Write more gossip for those trashy magazines? You think that will solve this mess now? Go and live your life, Bella. Go to college, have fun. Leave us be, just leave us be."

Renee left without looking at her again. Bella had never heard such harsh words from her mother. Tears came unbidden. It wasn't just the guilt of knowing that she had brought down a catastrophe on her family with her carelessness, nor was it only about the cruel words her mother said to her, but also to think how angry and hurt Renee must be to be able to say such things, that crushed Bella inside.

She looked at the magazine again. It was hard to believe that such an unassuming piece of document could wreck so much havoc on people's lives. She hadn't been told her piece was being published in this edition. In fact, she hadn't seen Mr. Berty or Mr. Forrester since her graduation. But little would be achieved by picking a fight with them now.

She read the letter from Harold Jenks again and suddenly felt a flicker of hope. The letter came from Mr. Jenks. It's very possible that he was simply following orders and complying with the preset rules. It could very well be that Carlisle Cullen didn't even know about the infraction. And even if he did, he surely would see how her essay couldn't be lumped with the gossip columns. In fact, she wrote nothing but praises of him. She didn't reveal or insinuate any personal information – how could she? she knew next to nothing about him. If she could just explain to him her honest mistake and if he could actually read the essay, he would see that she hadn't really broken any rules and maybe he'd forgive them. Also, he graced the cover of The Economist a few months ago, if he was ok with that, maybe he could be made to see reason that her mistake wasn't so grave.

With that seed of hope in mind, Bella went to her room to spend a sleepless night, waiting for the morning to come. She would go to Carlisle Cullen and plead their case. He was kind and he was just. He would listen; she had faith.

_He saved us once; I know he will save us again._

And the next day, three years after she'd seen him at the hospital, Bella went to find Carlisle Cullen.

**Important AN1:**** Much to my delight I've been informed that I have made it to Round 2 of the Avant Garde Awards. Thank you so much for your vote. Your faith in me is scary and exhilarating in equal parts. But what makes this occasion REALLY special to me is that my friends have made it through as well. Round 2 voting will open on 12****th**** June. I humbly request you to consider casting your vote for these talented and sweet people:**

**BellaScotia for ****Secrets and Lies****, Bronzehyperion for ****Bring on the Wonder****, MrsEdwardCullenP for ****Price of a Broken Heart****, I Need a Life Bad for ****Control****, AELGP for ****Marital Psychosis****, ****Nickeyd26 for ****A Voice in the Darkness****, and ****pixie-belle88 as Best New Author. **

**And while you are at it, vote for me too – if you think I deserve it. **

**AN2: ****Thank you for reading and giving me a chance. Thank you for reviewing. Hearing**** from you makes me ridiculously happy. Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**Thanks to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. She is the creator of "Fresh in Forks". She is far more creative than I am. Without her, I probably will call it something really lame, like "Forks R Us". Please read her story ****The Long Walk Home.**

**Thanks to kimbo06, lulabelle98, roon0, karebear8706, and Shattered1025 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Check out their stories.**

**AN3: The Evian Summit of the G8 leaders took place in France, 1-3 June, 2003. Among other things, water, health, and promoting responsible market economy were part of the agenda of the conference. Yes, Carlisle Cullen wasn't **_**really **_**present there, but it seemed like just the kind of thing he'd be involved in. Let me know if you like to find out more about the summit. **

**AN4: Story rec - ****Crash**** by BelleDean: ****A financial collapse, a hurdle, a breakdown and a collision – though not necessarily in that order. E & B. ****This story completely took me by surprise. If you like AH stories that are realistic, well written, and engrossing, then please give this bad boy a chance. **


	8. Chapter 8

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 7:

With that seed of hope in mind, Bella went to her room to spend a sleepless night, waiting for the morning to come. She would go to Carlisle Cullen and plead their case. He was kind and he was just. He would listen; she had faith.

_He saved us once; I know he will save us again._

And the next day, three years after she'd seen him at the hospital, Bella went to find Carlisle Cullen.

* * *

><p>Chapter 8<p>

**Carlisle, present day**

After a long and mostly sleepless night of keeping himself busy with paper work, Carlisle walked into the bathroom to splash water on his face. He straightened up to look at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. For the first time in a long time, he carefully took in the familiar features; the strong form and fine lines, nearly the same as he remembered from years ago, but not quite. Was that a touch of silver that was encroaching on his blond temple? Could he now be called _distinguished_?

The light that reflected off of the water droplets on his skin created a certain shimmer that made him look almost unearthly. He recognized the blue eyes that looked back at him, so much like his father's – heavenly azure and crystal clear. But if eyes were to be the window into one's soul, he wasn't occupying a room with a view. He leaned in closer and furrowed his brow in concentration, looking for signs that would give away what truly lay within. There were none. He still stood tall and proud, his flawless face still as handsome as it had been in his twenties. Even the few fine wrinkles around his eyes and the subtle hint of grey at his widow's peak seemed to only add to his impeccable allure.

He had his parents to thank for his immaculate good looks, and he would be lying if he said that it didn't give him an extra edge in life; whether in swaying opinions during a merger negotiation or to win over the heart of a woman he desired. Most of his life, he'd been thankful for his looks, and his riches. He knew he hadn't earned either, but he didn't take it for granted. He worked hard to expand the fortunes he'd inherited to four times its worth over his lifetime. And though he wasn't overly vain, he placed high value in personal hygiene and actively applied himself to stay in shape.

Gazing at himself now, he couldn't help but wonder whether it would have been better for all concerned if he was born to an average family of average means, and was gifted with average looks. Here he stood, with immeasurable wealth at his disposal and the fate of thousands resting on his whim, yet the only thing he could truly claim to have to his name was a gaping, raw wound that festered in his heart and spewed deadly, black venom day and night.

He turned his head from left to right, closely inspecting his features from every angle. Other than the blue of his eyes and the gold of his hair, he didn't inherit much from his father. In its twisted sense of humor, fate deemed fit to pass on nearly all of his father's traits to his illegitimate son instead. The irony wasn't lost on him.

His brother – no, he wasn't his brother, the _bastard_ - was the splitting image of Kyle Cullen; from the lithe build, to the chiselled jaw; from the deceptively disarming smiles to the thick brow. He even lived with his head in the clouds just like their father did. Once upon a time, Carlisle looked upon these similarities with fondness and took them as a sign from fate. He used to believe that Edward was meant to be by his side and reign over the Cullen empire as his equal. He was wrong. He should have listened to reason. He should have heeded Eleazar's warning. He should have walked away.

_Would've, should've, could've._

Bitterness rose like bile from his core and he had to grip the marble slab that held the sink to push it back down. No, he would not think of the bastard; he was dead to him. His heart clenched in pain and he had to blink away the tears. He refused to shed even a single drop for that treacherous snake. He had taken enough from him.

After a brief moment and a deep cleansing breath, he loosened his clasp over the marble countertop and looked back at his reflection. He trained his thoughts to something pure and calming, perhaps the only oasis of serenity he had left in his world; the memories of his mother. Elisheba Cullen nee Goldsmith was the most beautiful and loving person he'd ever known.

He knew that perhaps his recollection was clouded by age and the blind devotion that children typically held for their mothers. She passed away when he was ten. A particularly virulent form of breast cancer snatched her away from him and his father, with less than six months from the onset of the disease until they lowered her in to the ground. He missed her terribly when he was a little boy, and he missed her today as he reflected on the rubble and debris that his life had become.

He recalled the exquisite contours of her face, framed by lush brown hair, smiling down at him with a luminous smile in her coffee bean eyes. He'd been told how much he resembled his mother, though he couldn't see it himself. But on occasion, he'd be caught dead in his tracks while passing by a mirror somewhere and see the curl of her lips, or the high arch of her brow looking back at him.

She was so precious. Not a mean bone in her body or a harsh word for a soul. She kept him wrapped in a bubble made up of the purest form of love. And he sometimes wondered if he had been trying to find his way back to that safe haven all his life. Trying, and failing miserably apparently.

Her memories almost succeeded in calming him down, until his wayward thoughts brought on a very unwanted musing to the forefront of his mind. The other brown-eyed, brunette in his life; his wife. Her dark hair and chocolate, doe eyes drew him in, making him trust the façade because they held the colors he trusted implicitly. She fooled him, and he let her.

Anger and hate erupted like a raging volcano in his mind and wrath like hot molten lava threatened to lash out and burn everything in its path. His fists clenched and his face crunched up in a sneer. His lips curled away to bare pearly white teeth. His body shook in an uncontrollable fury and he had to exercise immense will power not to break everything in sight. Fighting his intuitive urge to annihilate, he reined himself in. He had destroyed enough things in the past three years – things, and people. And while it worked temporarily to sate the monster inside of him, the need to obliterate always came back for more.

In the last six months he had been forced to step back and take a close look at his actions. He didn't like what he saw. He was surrounded by the wreckage of what his life used to be, and he wondered if he really could afford to break anything more.

_Is there anything left of her that can still be broken?_

He looked up at his reflection one last time and finally saw what he was searching for in the mirror; he could see the real him. His true self stared back at him with teeth bared and eyes filled with black rage.

_This is me. This is who I have become. A monster._

He couldn't hold his own gaze for long and had to look away.

After several minutes, once he felt his breathing had come back to normal, he reached for a towel and dried his face off.

He came back to his office and sat down behind the massive desk. He had come back to the house the night before and had locked himself away in the wing that held his office-cum-study. This suite had been his personal space in the house for the past three years. His wife now occupied what used to be his room; what he'd once hoped would be _theirs_.

The house was big enough, and he was quite sure that most of the time his wife was not even aware of his presence. He liked to keep it that way. He tidied up the paperwork that was spread all over the desk and prepared what he would be taking with him to Seattle that day. It was still early; 8:00 a.m. in the morning. Turning to his computer screen, he pulled up the window that allowed him to check the video feed from every single security camera installed in the house, both within the walls and those around the property surrounding it.

He pondered the merit of checking what his wife was doing. Her daily whereabouts were rather predictable. He was fairly certain she was curled up in her bed, still deeply asleep. And he was right. If the past six months were anything to go by, she wouldn't wake up until Sylvia Cope came to collect her for breakfast around 9:30 or 10:00 a.m.

The cameras were mounted around the house nearly fifteen years ago after an untoward security breach, and had gone through periodic upgrades throughout the years. He hadn't had much use for them before and never thought he would. But then things changed. He'd changed. He found himself spending hours observing his wife's every movement within the house, getting a deeply depraved pleasure from knowing she couldn't hide anything from him, even when she thought he wasn't around. Not that he spent every available moment watching her, but enough to get a sufficiently good idea of her routine.

She used to be somewhat restless during the first half a year or so of their marriage. She would pace around the room a lot, like a caged animal. Then she'd huddle in a corner and cry. She used to spend an impressive amount of time crying. She had settled down considerably later on, doing little else other than sitting by the bay window with her knees hugged close to her chest.

Back then, she also used to do something that was a matter of great curiosity to him. In those early days, her constant pacing and crying would often be punctuated by her picking up the phone and staring at it with a pained, indecisive expression, before putting it down and resuming her looped marching, or weeping. He was very keen to figure out whom she was thinking about calling: 911? Her parents? Or was it his brother? He had considered disconnecting the land line, but the suspense of this particular tryst was too great for him to put an end to it. And after a fashion, perhaps he was just as eager to find out if she had the nerve to call for help. She never did.

He had known about her precious glass flower all along. He had seen her take it out of its hidden spot countless times and pine over the trinket. It wasn't hard to speculate its significance. He could have taken it away from her anytime he wanted, but the sick pleasure he got from hashing out how exactly to do that was far more rewarding: he could remove the souvenir from its hidden place and sit back and watch her lose her mind looking for it, or he could watch her face as he crushed it under his shoes. He couldn't decide which option would be more gratifying.

But things came to a head six months ago and he was forced to take a careful look within and at his actions of the last two and a half years. He no longer knew where he stood with regards to his wife, but he felt something needed to change.

A knock on the door brought him out of his musings. He quickly closed the video feed on his computer screen and called out, "Come in."

Mrs. Cope opened the door and approached his desk with a pleasant smile on her face.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen. Hope I'm not catching you at a bad time," she said.

He received progress reports from Mrs. Cope once a week concerning his wife's wellbeing, but she rarely made a personal appearance for that.

"Morning, Mrs. Cope. I will be heading out soon, in fact. Is everything well with my wife? You can email me your report; I will look it over later tonight." He tried to look busy as he spoke, hoping the elderly woman would take the hint and leave him be.

But his hopes were for naught as she stubbornly kept standing.

He felt a renewed sense of irritation for having a health professional living in the house. He had to remind himself that she was not part of the housekeeping staff and thus not bound by the etiquette of only approaching him if summoned. But it was preferable to having his wife go off to a detox slash rehab facility; he would have very little control over what she'd do or say once she was outside his direct realm of influence. He didn't want to risk that. Neither could he appear to be lacking in initiative with regards to his wife's wellbeing. Not after she had such a public crisis.

"Actually, Mr. Cullen, I was hoping to have a word with you in person, if that's possible. It's not too pressing, so I could wait for another time, but I believe it's important that we don't put it off for too long…it's with regards to your wife."

"Very well, take a seat." He waved his hand as he settled into his chair, preparing himself for the conversation he was not interested in having one bit.

"I am afraid my presence isn't really helping Mrs. Cullen the way I hoped it would. I felt I needed to bring this to your attention, so you could be better informed in taking the next steps." She came straight to the point.

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brow in irritation. "Your reports, up until this point, seem to indicate quite the opposite. As far as I see, she is regaining her weight at a rate that is closely following the progression line you projected at the beginning. What seems to be the problem?" He was exasperated and didn't do anything to hide his impatience.

Much to her credit, Mrs. Cope did not show any sign of being intimidated by his displeasure.

"I know what we discussed when I took up your wife's case and I agree, going only by the progress chart, it would appear that she is doing quite well. But I am afraid the tables and charts are only giving you a partial picture, a very _incomplete_ picture." She hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"I don't know how to say this, Mr. Cullen, but your wife is not well, and from what I have observed in the last several months, she is not getting better. In fact, I am convinced that she is getting worse. And I think it poses a graver problem today compared to six months ago, because now the real issues are…less visible due to her 'apparent' good health." She finished her statement calmly.

"I am perfectly aware my wife isn't well." He spewed out the words with clear contempt. "That's why you were hired. And if she isn't getting any better under your care then maybe I should look for a replacement; someone who _will _be able to help her."

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Cullen. I am not saying I am incapable of helping her," she said, apparently unfazed by his harsh retort.

"But despite my best efforts, I have come to the conclusion that Mrs. Cullen – Bella – is suffering from inflictions that are far deeper than I had estimated at first. Her physical recovery is satisfactory, but emotionally-"

"Her emotional inflictions are not your concern, Mrs. Cope." He interrupted her forcefully. "I already have a _better _qualified professional to look after my wife's emotional troubles. You are here to fulfil one task only, and that is to make sure she eats properly and reaches a healthy weight range within a reasonable time frame. If you are unwilling to accept the parameters of your duties, please send your decision in writing to my HR office. You will be remunerated for your services, and I will find someone who is up to the task." He turned his attention to the document in hand in a dismissing gesture, expecting her to take the hint and leave, but she persisted.

"I do not wish to resign, Mr. Cullen. I just wanted to inform you of my observations, because I felt you would want me to share them with you. So, perhaps we could discuss and decide on a different strategy to approach the problem."

Carlisle shook his head impatiently.

"Tell me, Mrs. Cope, is Isabella refusing to eat what you prepare for her every day?" he asked.

"No she is not, but-"

"Is she throwing up after she eats?"

"No, but-"

"Is she gaining back the weight she's lost?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then what is the problem here?" He asked the question while slamming down his hands on the desk to make a point.

The resultant noise startled Mrs. Cope a little but she collected herself quickly enough.

"The problem, Mr. Cullen, is that she is doing it for the wrong reasons. I can only speculate about what her reasons might be, but it is _not_ because of her personal conviction to get better. She is eating to follow orders and she is keeping it down to follow orders. That is _not_ healing. I can't speak for Dr. Weber or what recommendations she may have made, but this is not a sustainable solution. It's almost as if she doesn't have the will to live. Bella – Mrs. Cullen – would invariably relapse once this constant monitoring stops. And you can't keep her on a 'suicide' watch for the rest of her life." She stopped to take a deep breath.

"And since I am sure you care about your wife's wellbeing, I thought you'd want to know the reality of the situation." She held his gaze without fear as she spoke the last words, waiting for his reaction.

Carlisle was tempted to quip back that he indeed could keep his wife on a constant watch for the rest of her life if he so pleased, but he refrained from voicing his thoughts. He was somewhat taken aback by Mrs. Cope's ominous prediction about Bella's inevitable relapse.

_It's almost as if she doesn't have the will to live._

Wasn't that exactly what he wanted? To break her down so thoroughly that nothing could resurrect her back to life. It wasn't unknown to him that she was drinking; he saw her with the bottle enough times in the past. At the time it only gave him a sense of satisfaction. She was welcome to destroying her liver if she chose to.

Yet, when he was called to the hospital that day six months ago, something rattled inside of him. There were so many conflicting thoughts in his mind. Yes, he wanted to hurt her; yes, he wanted to see her suffer, but was he really prepared to see her die? Whom would he exact his pound of flesh from if she did? Also, how could he not notice that she had lost so much weight? He saw her standing in the nude for hours on countless nights. Why did it not register in his mind until then?

After some deliberation he concluded that he didn't want her dead. But that left an even bigger conundrum for him, because he could no longer be sure _why_ he wanted her alive. Was it only because he would have someone to destroy at his own leisure? Or could it be that the vengeful inferno inside him had finally burned through its course, after consuming everything in its path, including itself? Could he actually be concerned for her? Did he really want her to get well?

He didn't know what he wanted anymore, and hearing his own uncertainties being reinforced by this woman sitting in front of him didn't help resolve his confusion.

"I appreciate your concern and...I will take your advice under consideration. Maybe we can revisit this matter another time. But I really need to be going now, so if you'll please..." He trailed off as he signalled to the door, clearly motioning for Mrs. Cope to leave the room, and this time she didn't linger on.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Cullen. I am glad we had this talk. I'd be happy to sit down with you to discuss this more, or to answer any questions you may have. I hope we will find the time someday soon." She stood up and left the room after giving him a polite smile.

He dropped his head in his hands once he was alone again. He knew Mrs. Cope would be back to push the envelope, and he knew he'd have to sort out his own head so he could be prepared for it.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he made his way to his car. He could hear Mrs. Cope's voice coming from the sunroom on his way out, indicating that his wife was most likely awake and about. He paused, but didn't go into the room, deciding not to upset her with his presence this morning.

As his car sped by on the 101, he sat in the back and forced his mind to think about Isabella, his wife, without letting the simmering magma boil over in his heart. Looking back through the years, he reminisced over the chain of events that brought him to this point in life. It went back a long way, further even than when he'd first met Bella.

**AN1: At the risk of sounding repetitive, I humbly request you to head over to the Avante Garde Awards site and vote for these awesome people. **

**BellaScotia for ****Secrets and Lies****, Bronzehyperion for ****Bring on the Wonder****, MrsEdwardCullenP for ****Price of a Broken Heart****, I Need a Life Bad for ****Control****, AELGP for ****Marital Psychosis****, Nickeyd26 for ****A Voice in the Darkness****, and pixie-belle88 as Best New Author.**

**And while you are at it, vote for me too – if you think I deserve it. I happen to make it through to Round 2 in the Best New Author category. Thank you all who voted for me! I am immensely grateful.**

**Here's the link: http : /www . avantgardeawards . com/**

**AN2: Beautiful Sorrow was featured in the Under the Radar section of Twilight Awards site. Check it out if you are interested:**

**http: / reviews . thetwilightawards . com/search/label/Under%20the%20Radar**

**AN3: Rec- ****Somewhere Only We Know ****by suzie55. **

**It was best to keep her at a distance. Best for her it seemed until tonight. How do you start over with the one you hurt the most? B x E AH Love, Angst, Lemons... the usual suspects. It's makes me want to cry most of the time, but boy, I must say, it's brilliantly written.**

**AN4: Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without you. Please read her story ****The Long Walk Home. ****It's been nominated in a bunch of categories at the Eternity Awards. Please vote for her when polls open. **

**Thanks to kimbo06, lulabelle98, roon0, karebear8706, rsher1111 and Shattered1025 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Check out their stories.**

**I am thankful to all those who read, review, alert and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. It kinda helps...**


	9. Chapter 9

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 8:

As his car sped by on the 101, he sat in the back and forced his mind to think about Isabella, his wife, without letting the simmering magma boil over in his heart. Looking back through the years, he reminisced over the chain of events that brought him to this point in life. It went back a long way, further even than when he'd first met Bella.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**Carlisle, age 18**

Carlisle had just turned eighteen when he was thrust into adulthood to take up his father's mantle leading the Cullen fortunes. Kyle Cullen had passed away unexpectedly three days prior when his private jet went down near Newfoundland on his way back from Europe. Carlisle excused himself from the funeral crowd and found a quiet spot in his father's – now his – office at the house. Eleazar Goldsmith entered the room with the customary grim expression on his face.

Eleazar was the veritable pillar that his father heavily relied on to run his massive enterprise. Other than being the company's CFO, he was also perhaps the only family Carlisle had left now; the only family that acknowledged him at least.

Eleazar was a pragmatic man who was not prone to displaying emotions, not even towards those he cared deeply about. He preferred to keep people at arm's length with his gruff and irate exterior.

Today he was even more morose than usual. Kyle Cullen was his dear friend and brother-in-law. His responsibilities now lay in making sure that the path to Carlisle's ascension to the Cullen throne went as smoothly as possible. The dead man's will had been read and predictably, all his worldly possessions had been passed along to his only son, Carlisle. Eleazar was entrusted with the young boy's proxy to represent his interests to the Board, and act as his mentor and guide until he reached his twenty-first birthday. His task at hand today wasn't an easy one, but he was determined to perform his duty to the best of his ability.

"Carlisle," Eleazar called out to the grief-stricken boy.

"Son, I wish I could put off telling you this, but I'm afraid there's something you need to know. It affects you and the business, and it's my duty to prepare you for it." He came to stand by the young boy as he spoke.

"What is it, Uncle El?" Carlisle asked as he discreetly wiped away tears from his eyes. Eleazar, unlike his father, would consider such a show of sentimentality a weakness. He didn't want to appear weak.

"We should sit down for this. Come, let's talk business like real men," he said as he placed a hand on Carlisle's shoulder, motioning for him to take his place behind the desk.

This had been his father's sanctuary in the house for as long as he could remember. Of course he'd played around in the room as a child, and sat behind that desk in playful charades on many an occasion, but this was different.

After a brief hesitation, Carlisle sat down in the comfortable armchair and looked at Eleazar expectantly. He could guess what the older man might have to say. He was most likely going to lecture him about how sacrifices had to be made on his part to meet the expectations of the thousands of Cullen employees; that he needed to grow up. His uncle had been prepping him for the role ever since he turned thirteen. He was used to it, but he was not ready for what Eleazar had to say.

"Carlisle, there's something important I need to tell you. It's not going to be easy for you to hear, and I really wish I didn't have to bring this up. But I have to. You will find out about it sooner or later, and I prefer it be sooner 'cause I want you to be prepared for it. I want you to be able to protect yourself."

"What are you talking about?" Carlisle asked in a perplexed tone.

Eleazar didn't answer him right away, as though the words he was about to speak were painful for him.

"For the last year or so, your father had been seeing someone, a woman."

"What?" Carlisle nearly laughed at the news. "That's not possible, you are wrong…" he said with conviction.

In many respects, Kyle Cullen's life was essentially over the day his wife died eight years ago. To Carlisle, it was obvious how much his father loved his mother. He barely managed to carry on his duties as a parent. His work had taken a bad hit, and if it weren't for Eleazar's firm support to guide him, he probably wouldn't have anything left to pass on to his son. He never got over being the grieving widower. The idea of him shacking up with some random woman was unthinkable. He wouldn't do that. Surely he'd tell his only son if he was considering entering the social scene again.

"Kyle didn't want you to know. Even I found out purely by accident. He was… afraid that you'd take it badly. He didn't want to hurt you." Eleazar refuted his nephew's skeptical retort.

Carlisle was dumbfounded by what he was hearing. How could his father do that to him; to his mother's memories? Didn't she mean anything to him? He knew eight years was a long time to mourn the loss of a spouse, but he couldn't bring himself to think logically when it came to his mother.

"Who is she?" he asked while seething.

"He met her in Boston. He's been cutting her a check every month from his personal account. That's how I found out. I tried to warn him how this woman was taking advantage of his vulnerabilities, but you know your father, always seeing the best in people. I told him he needed to tell you, at least. I guess he never felt the time was right."

Carlisle felt an irrational rage overcome him. The idea that after everything they'd been through as a family, his father would simply allow some leggy blonde to soil his mother's place in their world was infuriating. How could he fall for the oldest trick in the book? It disgusted him that his father would pay a woman for such 'services'.

He couldn't understand why Eleazar would want to bring this up today. He didn't want to think this way about his father. What good could possibly come out of blighting his memories now?

Almost as if he could read his nephew's mind, Eleazar continued talking.

"You must be wondering why I am digging all this up now. Believe me; I wouldn't if I had a choice. I am not trying to make you question your father. Yes, he made some questionable decisions, but he loved you, always. Never doubt that. Kyle was a great man, a good man. Even his mistakes were made out of best of intentions.

"The reason why we need to open this can of worms now is because there's more to it than your father simply seeing someone.

"Carlisle, after I spoke with him about the matter and he refused to listen to my warning, I felt I had to find out more about her. For Kyle's sake. I mean, what kind of a woman accepts money from the man she's dating? But Kyle was blind when it came to her, he wouldn't hear a word I had to say."

Carlisle noticeably paled at the insinuation being openly voiced; his father had resorted to paying for carnal pleasure. How could he stoop so low? Carlisle wanted to vomit.

Eleazar, the ever perceptive man that he was, picked up on Carlisle's distress and proceeded on to defuse the crisis.

"Don't be too hard on your dad, Carlisle. He was a decent man, never doubt that. But he was lonely too, son. It's been eight years since Eli passed away. Men have their needs. Don't judge him. That's not the reason why I have come to talk to you today.

"There are things that I have found out about this woman, and I was planning on talking to Kyle about this as soon as he got back from Geneva, but…" he trailed off. Kyle never made it back from Geneva. Death had intervened.

"The woman is pregnant, Carlisle." He spat out the words. "And I am afraid she will come after you and the Cullen name with everything she's got to make a buck, claiming Kyle to be the father. We can't let that happen. There could be a long and dirty fight ahead and it's my job to prepare you for the battle. That's why you need to know about this now."

Carlisle went visibly green at the thought of a woman with questionable morals out there somewhere in Massachusetts, prepping up a nursery and plotting to drag his father's name through the mud. He would stop her if it was the last – or the only - thing he ever did.

"Is she blackmailing us?" he asked with a shaky voice.

"Not yet, not that I know of. It's still quite soon after the plane crash. She's probably just finding out about Kyle's death. But make no mistake, she will. As soon as she realizes her egg laying goose is gone, she will come after you. She will demand money, and quite possibly a share of the company for her kid. She will think that you are just a boy, that she'd be able to scare you into settling, but you can't let her take advantage of you.

"You have to be firm, and she needs to know that you are in full control and under no circumstances will you buckle. We need to get a legal team pulled up as soon as possible to flank the defense. We need to decide on a cap of how much we are willing to pay to make her go away and keep quiet, and we need to make sure that word doesn't reach the Board of Directors. They can't do anything to hurt you, but we have to do everything within reason to make sure the Cullen good name is not compromised."

Carlisle nodded his head in agreement, grateful for Eleazar's sound counsel. It was something he had come to depend on throughout his life, as did his father.

"Who is she, El? What's her name?" Carlisle asked out of curiosity.

"Elizabeth Masen. She's an office assistant at Ion One, the solar panel producers we invested in a few years back. My guess is that's when she set her eyes on him."

"She has a regular job? So, she's not a…" Carlisle's words faltered. He couldn't bring himself to articulate 'prostitute'.

"No, no. She is not a…_professional_ like that, but a gold digger is a gold digger. It's clear as day that she pursued him for his money. Why else would she agree to be treated like a dirty secret, or take his money? We need to be weary of this woman, Carlisle."

"I know, but is it possible that she…this baby, is there a chance that it's really…"

"Kyle's?" Eleazar finished his question. "The Kyle Cullen I knew would never allow his child to be born as an illegitimate bastard. And I have reasons to believe that he'd known about her pregnancy for a while. If the child was his, he would have done the honorable thing; he would have recognized her in public, no matter how bad it made him look. So, no. I don't think for a second that baby is a Cullen."

Carlisle saw no flaw in Eleazar's reasoning. Whatever might have prompted his father to keep his liaison with this woman a secret, he wouldn't have stood for hiding away his child. He was a sentimental man, driven by emotions, not someone who'd hideaway his own flesh and blood just to maintain his reputation.

"You said she works for Ion One? So she works for us? Why don't we just fire her?"

"Because even though we have investments there, we don't have the controlling share. We can't arbitrarily ask them to hire or fire people without drawing attention. Of course, you can buy out the whole company and then get rid of her in the restructuring process, but as things stand, Ion One is doing quite well in the market. You should involve people on a need-to-know basis only. Other than your legal team and investigators, no one needs to know about this right now," he explained. "I want you to be ready when the time comes."

Carlisle agreed, and that's exactly what he did over the course of the next month or so. He fortified himself with the best litigation team money could buy who assured him of his victory in the unlikely event the case went to court. A top-notch security company was retained to investigate everything there was to know about Elizabeth Masen.

Once all preparations were made, he laid in wait for the harlot to come calling. He was ready for battle. He'd been offered an early acceptance at Harvard, his family's alma mater, to begin his college education that fall. He wanted to resolve this unsavory affair before he went off to college.

He waited, and then he waited some more, but no claim or demand came from Elizabeth Masen. As the summer neared its end, he started to become agitated with impatience. Half a year had passed by since his father's demise. Elizabeth Masen had had plenty of time to perfect her strategy as did he, but she wasn't showing any interest to engage him in combat. He was growing frustrated with inaction.

As September came around, he had to begrudgingly step down from the full blown, battle station and pack up and move across the country to start school in Cambridge. Eleazar helped him pick his courses and he had a clearly mapped out path ahead of him.

He settled into college life relatively well, but the thought of an annoyingly absent Elizabeth Masen kept nagging at the back of his mind. Why wasn't she making her demands known? What was she waiting for?

He had become greatly curious about the woman over the past months. The fact that he practically lived in the same city as her made it very tempting to simply look her up. As the idea took root in his mind, he found himself checking out the file he'd received from his security people that contained her home address. He was surprised to realize that he recognized the Boston neighborhood where she lived.

He knew that preemptively contacting Elizabeth Masen would spell disaster for the defense strategy his attorneys had drawn up, but his curiosity got the better of him. He had to see this woman who could make his father fall from grace.

One Saturday afternoon, on a cold winter day, Carlisle found himself in front of the apartment building that housed Elizabeth Masen. He was surprised to see that the front entrance had no lock and there wasn't any security in sight. He took the elevator to the desired floor and then knocked on the door that bore the number he had in his file.

When the door opened, he looked up and saw the woman whom he'd grown to despise since his father's death.

After months of speculation and morbid curiosity, he was face to face with Elizabeth Masen.

**AN1: Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all those who voted for me at the Avent Garde Awards. I won as the Best New Author. I am duly elated! What makes this really special is that my friends won in nearly all the categories they were nominated in. BellaScotia won two awards! Woohoo! Bronzehyperion and Lady Tazz won in their respective categories too. Congratulations to these amazingly people. **

**But since the award season is only just starting I have more PR campaigns to run. Polls are open at The Eternity Awards. A bunch of my friends are nominated, as am I *blush*! Please send your vote in a single email to the(dot)eternity(dot)awards(at)gmail(dot)com.**

**You can find the nominations at:**

**http : / the-eternity-awards . webs . com / nominations . htm (remove the space!)**

**I humbly ask you to vote for these awesome people:**

**The Long Walk Home**** by lulabelle98 (The Bella Award, The Edward Award, The Esme Award)**

**Crash**** by BelleDean (The 'I Can't Believe It's Not Real!' Award) **

**Bring on the Wonder**** by Bronzehyperion (The Meadow Award) **

**BellaScotia**** (The Vampire Award) **

**Love In Idleness ****by twanza (The Emmett Award, The Pause Award) **

**A Quiet Fire**** by Magnolia822 (The Edward Award and The Switzerland Award) **

**Beautiful Sorrow too is nominated for ****The Jasper Award, The Rosalie Award, and The Victoria Award. Include it in your vote if you think it has earned it. **

**AN2: A HUGE thanks to Indie Fic Pimp for featuring Beautiful Sorrow in their blog and a million kisses to IcarusToSun for reviewing my little story. I am truly honoured and humbled. Thank you. The link is on my profile, if you want to check it out. **

**AN3: Story rec- ****Sinnerman**** by ****Detochkina. Summary: ****Loss, greed, unfulfilled ambitions, and a ticking clock. Bella finds herself in the middle of another family's drama and while on the mission to help, she loses the track of what's right and what's wrong. Canon, AH, OOC. This unusual crime-ward story completely blew me away. Please give it a chance.**

**AN4: Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without you. Please read her story****The Long Walk Home and vote for her at the Eternity Awards. **

**Thanks to kimbo06, lulabelle98, roon0, karebear8706, rsher1111 and Shattered1025 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Check out their stories.**

**Thank you Emergency Beta Service and ****Detochkina for the writing bootcamps! You guys are amazing!**

**I am thankful to all those who read, review, alert and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. It kinda helps...**


	10. Chapter 10

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 9:

When the door opened, he looked up and saw the woman whom he'd grown to despise since his father's death.

After months of speculation and morbid curiosity, he was face to face with Elizabeth Masen.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

**Carlisle, age 18**

Elizabeth Masen looked nothing like what Carlisle had expected. The grainy surveillance pictures he'd been given by his troop of private investigators held only a vague resemblance to the woman who'd answered the door.

In his mind, he had conjured up some tall and leggy vixen, oozing charm and deceit through her every pore. The woman standing before him, if she were whom he believed her to be, couldn't be farther from that image. She stood at 5'5" at most, and was dressed in a washed out pair of sweat pants and a loose shirt that had a large, yellowish stain on one shoulder. She had reddish-brown hair that framed a face that could be termed pleasant at best - and plain if one deemed to be less forgiving.

Her tired, green eyes appeared surprised as she looked up to meet his gaze.

_My father fell for this?_

He couldn't help but compare this woman to his mother's perfection, and it gave him a great deal of satisfaction to see that Elizabeth Masen couldn't hold a candle to her in any respect what so ever.

"Carlisle?" she asked in an astonished tone.

_So, she knows me. _

He expected nothing less. Chances were, she had researched him just as well as he'd investigated her.

He didn't say anything in response. He stood his ground with icy disdain in his eyes.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked, moving away from the doorway to make room for him to pass. She had a gentle and kind voice, Carlisle noted.

He considered his next actions carefully and then decided to accept the invitation. He nodded curtly and then walked past her to enter her apartment.

"Here, let me take your coat."

He wordlessly took off his winter jacket and handed it to her as she hung it up on a hook on the wall.

The entryway led into a mid-sized living space that was sparsely furnished and yet somewhat cluttered. It looked well lived-in.

"Please, take a seat," she said as she trailed behind him into the room.

He contemplated spitting out something along the lines of 'I'd rather stand', or some such words of defiance, but relented in favor of restraint. He sat down cautiously on the ancient looking sofa.

"Could I offer you something? Maybe some tea? It's rather cold outside…" she asked in the same gentle voice she'd invited him in with. He didn't like it.

He spoke for the first time since meeting her. "No, thank you."

She nodded her head in understanding and fidgeted a little nervously before sitting down across from him.

He continued to watch her face carefully to find answers only she could give. She looked uncomfortable and anxious. Eager to break the tension in the room, she decided to speak first, "You are here, so I suppose that means… you _know_."

She looked down to her lap as she spoke.

He decided not to acknowledge the obvious and remained quiet.

"I am so sorry that you lost your dad, Carlisle. I know how close you two were. And I know how much he loved you. I really wanted to call, or send you a note, but… I figured it wouldn't be appropriate… and might upset you more." She looked up at him as she spoke. Her eyes conveying a sincerity that he didn't want to believe.

"I know we went about it the wrong way, but he really was going to tell you about us. I don't know how you've found out about… this, and I can only imagine how cheated you must be feeling, but please believe me, Kyle's only concern was to protect you. He was so afraid that you'd be hurt, and that you wouldn't approve. You were everything to him. Hiding me – hiding us – from you was really difficult for him. He had plans to tell you after he came back from that trip, he told me so, but he never got the chance." She looked away as she alluded to the plane crash that killed Kyle Cullen. Her voice seemed strained with emotion.

He sat still without making any response to her disclosure. She hadn't yet told him anything that he didn't know or guessed already. Her appearance didn't scream 'gold digger', but that didn't mean her intentions were noble. Maybe he had caught her off guard.

After fidgeting some more and realizing that she wasn't going to get any response from Carlisle, she chose to volunteer more information about her past relationship with his father.

"I met him five years ago; the company I work for went through a merger and the new co-owners came to restructure the business and there he was; your dad." She smiled at the memory.

"I know what most people would think: him being my employer and all, but it wasn't like that. He and I, we weren't… there wasn't anything between us. He only came to Boston a few times a year, and quite honestly, I don't think he even knew I was on his staff." She stopped for a moment to judge Carlisle's reaction, and then continued.

"But after a couple of years, I started noticing things about him; things that no one else seemed to care about. He was so sad all the time. It was practically etched on his face. I would see him sit through meeting after meeting and I could tell that his heart wasn't in it.

"And after a while, I guess he noticed that I noticed." She smiled at her play with words.

"I don't know if you'd care to know about any of this... maybe I should stop?" She looked at him questioningly.

"No, please continue." He broke his silence.

She nodded and smiled, and resumed her story.

"The first time we met outside of work, neither of us had any expectations beyond a nice dinner. In fact, it wasn't really even a date. I was leaving work and mentioned in passing that I was going home to leftovers for dinner. Kyle said something like how he couldn't even remember the last time he had leftovers, 'cause in order to have leftovers you need to make something first, and how he never cooked anymore. And just like that, I asked him to come over to share dinner with me. I didn't think he would accept, but he did.

"After that… after we sort of started seeing each other, we had to keep it a secret because of the company policy: the whole employer-employee, blurred boundaries and what kind of example it would set for the rest. Also, I didn't know where it all might lead, 'cause his life was in Seattle and once he left, I didn't know where it would leave us.

"But he came back for me. He always came back for me. Suddenly we were looking at a real possibility, a real chance at…"

She stopped and took a deep breath to exorcise the pain of broken dreams.

"Keeping it from the office wasn't the biggest problem really. I think he was ready to handle it. He could sell his shares of the business, or I could find work someplace else, if it really came down to it. But what really mattered to him was how you would take the news.

"He knew how much your mother means to you. He loved her very much too, you know. It took a really long time for him to give himself permission to be happy again. But he could never be happy if you were hurt in the process. And I understood that, I didn't want to pressure him. We both thought we'd have plenty of time to ease you into the idea. And even if you didn't approve at first, maybe with time you'd come to accept me…"

Carlisle sat silently, processing the bulk of information that he'd just been made privy to. She seemed honest and sincere, and therein lay danger. The danger of being manipulated into believing the sweet lies manufactured by a smooth con artist. This was exactly what Eleazar had warned him against. She obviously didn't win his father over with her sultry, seductive looks. Maybe it was her golden tongue that he had fallen prey to, since that seemed to be her forte.

But before he could voice his skepticism about her claim to selfless devotion to his father, a crackling noise broke out from a small, white device that sat on top of the coffee table that he had not noticed until now.

A baby monitor.

"Oh, that's Edward!" she said as she stood up to check on her infant.

"Please excuse me for a minute." She scurried off through one of the doors beyond the hallway, leaving Carlisle frozen in spot.

The baby.

He knew Elizabeth Masen had given birth to a boy soon after his father's death. The file told him that he was named Edward Anthony Masen. It was a source of much joy for Eleazar and his team of attorneys, because they saw it as documented evidence that the child had no claim to the Cullen legacy. Of course, in the event of a hostile dispute, DNA would have the final word, but they would much prefer a quiet understanding away from the public eye.

But now as he sat in a strange apartment with the said child crying in the next room, he was suddenly inundated with a fear that he had not encountered previously. What if he saw a resemblance to his father in the child? Would he be able to bury that piece of knowledge, and crush them as the imposters he believed them to be? He wasn't sure he was ready to face the predicament.

He needed to get away from this place, but he had to pass by the nursery to reach the door, and as soon as Elizabeth noticed him standing near the baby's room she beamed.

"Oh, please come in. You know about me, so I guess you know about him too." She smiled. "He just woke up from his nap and needed a change. But he's all good now."

She was holding her son in her arms, rocking him gently. She looked up at Carlisle with the brightest possible smile. Then looked down on her baby and prattled off meaningless 'baby-talk'.

Carlisle entered the room almost in a daze, refusing to look at the baby directly, but his eyes defied his command.

His gaze fell on the baby's face and he exhaled a breath of deep relief. The infant had green eyes and the red-brown hair of his mother. He looked nothing like Kyle Cullen. Perhaps, that explained why Elizabeth Masen hadn't pursued a legal recourse. But then, all babies looked the same, he'd heard. Looking at him now, could he be sure how this child would turn out as an adult? After all, he himself looked nearly nothing like his father.

Elizabeth came over to where he was standing and leaned in to give him a better look at her son.

"This is Edward." She proudly presented her baby to him.

"Look who's come to see you, sweetie! This is Carlisle, that's right, you have a visitor!" she cooed to Edward.

The moment of maternal bonding was interrupted by a buzzing sound that rang through the apartment.

"Oh, that's the house phone. It must be the super calling about fixing the buzzer. Could you please hold him for a second, I'll be right back. He will start crying if I put him down. Here."

With lightening speed, she deposited Edward into Carlisle's surprised hands and ran out of the room to speak with her building super.

In his eighteen years of life, Carlisle had seen very few infants and actually touched none. The squirming bundle in his arms threw him off his game completely. Was he holding him right? Was he squeezing him too tight? How could she leave her baby with him? What if he dropped the damn thing?

Once the initial bout of sheer terror passed, he stole another glimpse at Edward.

_Edward. _

_Why did she give him such an old man's name? Fairy_

He looked like – a baby. Much like every other baby he'd ever seen, whether on TV or real life. He didn't have any distinguishing features. Though the more he looked, the more he had to admit that Edward indeed had the most vibrant shade of green eyes that he'd ever seen on anyone. The red-brown hair that looked so unremarkable on his mother added a nearly mythical intrigue to his form.

But in the end, Edward was just a baby who belonged to a stranger. He was nothing to him.

Then the unexceptional baby did something quite remarkable. He lifted his small arm to reach for Carlisle and his lone-toothed mouth cracked into guileless laughter. It was the most magical thing he had ever witnessed. The rational part of his mind tried to reason that probably all babies laughed and waved their limbs from time to time, and that he was clearly giving this infant way more credit than due. But in the face of an overwhelming flood of emotions, his lucid brain conceded defeat and stood aside.

Carlisle wasn't aware that he had returned Edward's smile with one of his own, nor did he notice that all the tension he'd been carrying on his shoulders for the last six months had quietly drained away in a rather anticlimactic manner.

In that one moment, unbeknown to Carlisle, the average looking baby called Edward etched an indelible spot in his heart.

**AN1: Thank you everyone for voting at the Eternity Awards. The Shimmer Awards is next in line! Some amazing people have been nominated over there. I tried to look at their list of nominees but it gave me a headache; way too many stories and categories for my brain to work through. From what I could discern, I humbly request you to vote for my friends: **

**BellaScotia (Secrets and Lies)**

**Mehek18 (Best Banner)**

**Bronzehyperion (Bring on the Wonder)**

**BelleDean (Crash)**

**Jackson's Cupcake/LadyTazz7 (Control and Ladies & Liquor)**

**lt90 ( Uptown Realty)**

**Tkegl (Beyond Time) **

**I have been nominated too in a few categories (The Underdog Award, Cliffhanger Award, and Newbie Award). I would be immensely grateful if you considered voting for me in the ****Underdog Award****. I saw the list of stories listed under the other two categories. Just being included with some of them is reward enough. I honestly can't ask you to vote for me there!**

**Voting ought to be starting any minute. Here's the link to their blog: **

**http : / shimmerawards . blogspot . com/ (remove the space)**

**AN2: Story rec-****A Matter of Life and Death****by****Derdriu oFaolain and ****WhatsMyNomDePlume ****. **

**Summary:****Forget being scared to death, Bella Swan isn't even scared of death, something that both greatly annoys and—even if he won't admit it—entices Edward Cullen. If only she weren't trying to destroy him.**

**The intelligence and heart of the humor is priceless. The uniqueness of the characters is mind blowing.** **Please give it a chance.**

**AN3: Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without you. Please read her story The Long Walk Home. **

**Thanks to BellaScotia, Dinx219 and lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**I am thankful to all those who read, review, alert and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. It kinda helps...**


	11. Chapter 11

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 10:

Carlisle wasn't aware that he returned Edward's smile with one of his own, nor did he notice that all the tension he'd been carrying on his shoulders for the last six months had quietly drained away in a rather anticlimactic manner.

In that one moment, the average looking baby called Edward came to own him completely.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

**Carlisle, age 18**

Elizabeth returned soon and was pleasantly surprised by the sight that greeted her. Carlisle was rocking her son gently in his arms and they were both smiling. The stern, young boy who had dropped by unannounced and perused her with mistrust was replaced by a happy and carefree individual. He was holding Edward in an awkward manner, giving away his lack of practice, but the joy was clear on his face.

"Sorry for leaving him with you like that," she said as she reached out to relieve Carlisle of his charge.

"Oh, that's ok, I really didn't mind."

He wasn't too eager to relinquish Edward from his grasp, but he reluctantly allowed the mother to take over.

"Oh look, he likes you!" She pointed out with delight.

"Yah?"

"Yah, just look how he is laughing his socks off. Awww, my pretty-pretty buba." She reverted to 'baby-language' which incited a cascade of laughter and cackling from Edward.

Carlisle stood in the nursery, mesmerized as he watched Elizabeth interact with Edward. She moved around the room with such surefootedness. She entertained Edward with little hummed lullabies and rocked him until he'd settled enough to be laid down in his crib again.

Once Edward was resting peacefully, she tiptoed out of the room, signaling to Carlisle to follow.

"Ssshh." She gestured him to be quiet as they quietly made it back to the living room. Once they reclaimed their previous positions, Elizabeth grinned at Carlisle.

She found it very interesting that her son would have such a soothing effect on her unexpected guest. Carlisle had been up in arms since the first moment he'd stepped into her apartment, shooting daggers through his eyes. It wasn't a deliberate move on her part to thrust Edward into his hands when she ran to answer the house phone, but she was glad she did. The boy was practically beaming now. What a contrast to the angry, uptight persona he was exuding just moments earlier.

"You are not very used to being around babies, are you?"

"Not really." He lowered his head in embarrassment, unsure if he wanted her to know that he'd never picked up a baby before.

"That's ok, it's not a character flaw," she mused encouragingly.

He looked up and smiled, and she thought that he looked very sweet when he wasn't being so guarded. One could almost see a gentle shadow of his father when he wasn't trying so hard to ward off the world. A few minutes with Edward seemed to have relaxed the boy considerably. She decided to try her theory.

"Edward is a really happy baby. He cries very little. Don't get me wrong, it's still a lot of work raising a baby, but it almost feels like he knows that I need him to be good and he is consciously trying to make it as easy as possible for me."

"Really?" Carlisle's face perked up in fascination and obvious curiosity.

"Yes, really." She nodded for emphasis. "But I am a little biased. All mothers think their babies are special. So, maybe I am just seeing what I want to see, I don't know."

She never thought she would ever meet Carlisle in a personal setting. Whatever grand plans and dreams she had once shared with Kyle crashed and burned along with him when his plane went down. Since then she had mourned and put her life back together; she had forged a new path for herself and her son that didn't include hopes of grandeur or acceptance into the Cullen fold.

Carlisle's unexpected appearance at her doorstep today had reawakened the past for her. She loved Kyle Cullen, and by extension harbored a certain degree of affection for his son borne by his late wife. She was happy to see him, and wished she could somehow make him like her back, despite the cold hostility she sensed in him.

"Nah, I think you are right. He seems quite… smart." He smiled and looked away as he said it, feeling shy to share his thoughts. Did the word 'smart' even apply to babies? He wanted to ask her more about Edward. How old was he exactly? He looked healthy enough, but was he getting the kind of care a baby needed?

"Thank you!" She beamed. "I'm really lucky I guess. You hear all of these horror stories about colicky babies and how you never get any sleep. Well, I suppose I have it easy compared to the rest. Though, you probably can't tell by looking at the mess." She waved her hand around room while smiling, and Carlisle found himself smiling with her.

"Like the last time I took him to get his vaccines, he had a mild fever and I was afraid that he would fuss all day and I'd have to stay home from work. But he took it like a trooper. Didn't cry, didn't fuss. Magda told me he was the perfect little boy all day." She recounted the recent events with a mother's enthusiasm.

"Who's Magda?"

"Oh, she's Edward's babysitter. She looks after him during the week when I'm at work. It's not easy finding someone you can trust with your baby but that's life. I am fortunate that I found her when I did. I only had a few days to find a day-time caregiver for Edward before I had to go back to work. Magda was a godsend." She gestured with her eyes as she spoke to express her gratitude.

It gave Carlisle a pause. That's right, she worked for a living. But didn't she have family or friends she could lean on? He quickly recalled what the file said about Elizabeth's genealogy. Not much; she was a product of the foster care system. No family support.

"What about friends? Isn't there someone that you trust who can help?" he asked, not particularly liking the idea of Edward spending the majority of his time in a stranger's care.

She smiled at his naiveté. "Yes, I do have friends, but they need to work too. They can't give up their work hours anymore than I can, and I can't ask them to do that for me," she explained patiently. "You make do. That's how normal people live."

He reflected that if circumstances were different, Elizabeth Masen wouldn't have to 'make do' with regards to childcare options. If his father hadn't died, she would probably be sitting in her own house, surrounded by help, spending all the time she needed with her son.

"Is this Magda person qualified to look after a baby? I mean, does she have all the credentials and degrees?" he inquired.

"Well, she doesn't have a college degree, if that's what you're asking. But she raised four kids of her own. And Edward gets along with her. I couldn't ask for more."

"But there must be people who are specialized in childcare. Someone who's trained to look after small children?" he persisted.

Elizabeth looked confused. For some reason, Carlisle didn't like Magda, and she couldn't understand why.

"Are you talking about pre-school? Carlisle, he is way too young for that. Some places take in children at two, but he's not even one yet. And there are some day-care centers that accept kids as young as Edward, but they're either for only a few hours, or too expensive, or have a long waiting list… or all of the above. Magda is actually pretty good with him. It's quite alright, really." She tried to be reassuring.

He furrowed his brow. It was 'alright' perhaps, but it wasn't ideal. He wanted everything to be perfect for Edward. So, was that what her angle going to be? A tale of plight; her inability to provide proper childcare for lack of money?

He looked around the apartment with keener eyes than the last time. It was clean despite being cluttered. There were no signs of affluence in any of the articles that furnished the room. If Elizabeth Masen had leeched off of his father, she was hiding her secret stash well. Or could it be that she was just showing him a façade that she knew would make his heart melt?

_Well played, Ms. Masen. _

It wasn't lost on him that he was radically veering off the path that he'd hoped to adhere to when he decided to confront Elizabeth Masen. Her welfare was the last thing on his mind when he walked in through her door. Even as she was recounting her history with his father, he couldn't help but feel skeptical about her motives.

However, his brief meeting with Edward had changed all that. He felt a strong kinship to the infant that he couldn't shake off with cold reasoning. More importantly, he didn't want to.

Somehow, the threat Elizabeth posed to his future was of far less consequence to him now. _If _Edward were his sibling, it didn't matter what her intentions were, nor did it matter how much she'd skimmed off of his father while he was alive. What mattered was that he did everything within his power to look after his brother.

_My brother? _

He shook his head to clear his mind. Months of legal counsel and strategy meetings did nothing to prepare him for this. He was ready to confront and destroy an opponent; he was not ready for wanting to care for the said enemy.

He took a deep breath and conceded defeat.

_She has won._

"Well, if you need money to look after Edward, you can have it. I will pay whatever you say is necessary to make sure he is taken care of. You don't have to compromise on what's best for him." He blurted out the words and slumped on the sofa in resignation. He was accomplishing the exact opposite for which he'd come here today, but he didn't regret his decision.

"Excuse me?" came Elizabeth's surprised retort.

"You can have what you want," he repeated. "Just tell me how much. I'll pay." He waved the white flag of surrender.

Understanding flashed across Elizabeth's face. She was speculating about the reasons behind Carlisle's sudden visit. She realized now that he had perceived her as a threat; a greedy, calculating gold digger, and was treating her as such. It made her sad, but she couldn't fault him for his suspicions. After all, he had no reason to trust her.

"I don't want anything from you, Carlisle. I am sorry if that's the impression you have. You don't have to worry about me harassing you. I am giving you my word now, myself or my son will never… we will not bother you or make any kind of demands.

"Yes, I am aware that Kyle was wealthy, but quite honestly, it got in the way more than it helped. I know it must be hard for you to believe, but I wasn't with him for his money. I'm not rich, but I am capable of making my own way in this world, and take care of my son. I wasn't trying to sing a sob tale just now to make you think I'm starving. I wouldn't ask anything from you even if I were." She tried her hardest to convey the sincerity her heart held.

"But you did. You did accept… my dad used to give you…" Carlisle floundered with his words. He didn't mean to admit so blatantly about the precedence of transaction between his father and her. His attorneys would not approve; they would see it as tantamount to an admission of liability. But his mind was in a jumble and all cogent thoughts he'd had until now were fighting against the illogical wave of affection he was feeling towards a strange infant.

Her face paled a little at first, and then she blushed. Of course, he would know about the money. She lowered her face and spoke with shame and stilted words.

"I had a difficult time with Edward before he was born. My doctor called it a high-risk pregnancy and wanted me to stay off my feet after the first trimester. The maternity leave I got from work was only for six weeks. I got unpaid time off, but…

"Kyle insisted… he refused to take no for an answer. He wanted to take care of Edward and me, and I thought that maybe he had the right…" She raised her face to meet his gaze.

"It was only temporary; until I could go back to work. Of course, he was overdoing it, giving me way more than I really needed. I have used part of it, but I still have most of it left.

"I didn't know what to do after Kyle died… I can write you a check for it; for what's left."

She made a move to reach for a tote-bag that was resting on the floor by the sofa, presumably to reach for her checkbook.

"No. What?...That's not what I meant. Please stop." He put up both his hands in the air in a gesture to dissuade her. "I didn't mean to… I apologize… that came out wrong. I just wanted to say…" He couldn't finish the statement, because even though he was back peddling now, he couldn't deny that the intended sentiment behind his inquiry wasn't laced with derision and contempt.

"Please, I'm sorry that I came here unannounced, and for acting like a… for insulting you, I didn't… I am sorry. I am not here to collect money from you," he said apologetically.

"Why did you come here, Carlisle?" Elizabeth asked with measured words.

"I…I…" He fumbled uselessly. For the first time since his arrival that day, he truly looked the part of an unsure, confused teenager. Eleazar had prepped him well over the years. He knew how to project a cold and intimidating exterior that would effectively deflect all unwanted focus from his age. He'd hoped that he was doing quite well at holding up his shield until then. But now he was flailing miserably.

"Carlisle, I am glad that we finally met. I know the circumstances aren't ideal; I had hoped we would meet under a better, happier situation, but I am glad you came today." She smiled as she tried to put him at ease.

"I don't want you to think of me as an enemy. You are Kyle's son; he loved you. I won't do anything to hurt him – or his family. You don't have to believe me, because only time can show you the truth, but you don't have to be wary of me." She spoke with empathy and kindness.

The awkward silence that stretched before them became unbearable quite quickly. After fidgeting uncharacteristically for a minute or two, Carlisle decided he should take his leave.

"I probably should be going…" He stood up in preparation. Elizabeth nodded and followed him to the door. She handed him his coat and smiled at him as she opened the door for him to leave.

"Goodbye, Carlisle. It was really good of you to drop by. I know Edward really enjoyed your visit. He loves attention, but rarely gets to see anyone other than Magda and me. So, thank you for that."

She tried to make their parting as amicable as possible. She doubted that their paths would ever cross again. She didn't want the only meeting between her and Kyle's son to be one of hostility and discomfort.

Carlisle nodded in acknowledgement and turned to leave her doorstep. She was about to close her door, when he suddenly looked back and motioned for her to wait.

"Uh… I was wondering if I could drop by again sometime to visit Edward. If you are ok with it, of course." However awkwardly things had turned out between Elizabeth and himself, he couldn't leave without making sure he would be able to see his brother again.

"You want to see Edward?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes, I would; if it's ok with you."

"Uh… ok. I guess." Now it was her turn to stammer. "If you really want to. Sure, why not? Call me sometime and we will figure something out."

"Thank you, Ms. Masen." He bade her goodbye with a genuine smile.

"Call me Elizabeth; 'Ms. Masen' makes me feel like I'm still at the office," she said as she returned his smile before closing the door.

The past hour had transformed his outlook on life in more ways than one. He had a lot to think about and volumes to re-evaluate. The path to the future that was laid out for him had shifted. He would now have to forge new passages to make room for all the changes. He knew that no matter which course he finally settled upon, Edward would always be a part of it.

**AN1: You can find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming**

**AN2: I am nominated in the Underdog segment (#22 on the voting page) of the Shimmer Awards. I'd be immensely grateful if you chose to vote for me. Or, for someone you think deserves it. Either way, you'll make someone's day. That's good karma! So, please vote. **

**While I'm at it, I humbly request you to consider my friends as well:**

**BellaScotia (Secrets and Lies), Mehek18 (Best Banner), Bronzehyperion (Bring on the Wonder), BelleDean (Crash), Tkegl (Beyond Time), Jackson's Cupcake/LadyTazz7 (Control, Secret Lovers, and Ladies & Liquor), and lt90 ( Uptown Realty)**

**Here's the link: http : / shimmerawards . blogspot . com/ (remove the space)**

**AN3: Story rec-Eye Contact by silver sniper of night.**  
><strong>Summary: Bella Swan made a choice in life, one that led her to Edward Cullen. But are her feelings for him strong enough to survive the complications that will most certainly follow, as well as the disapproval of those around them? AU human, BxE.<strong>

**Tremendously well researched, this story left me thirsting for more. It features an Edward growing up with Aspersers. I can't imagine you not falling in love with it.**

**AN4: Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without you. Please read her story The Long Walk Home.**

**Thanks to Tkegl, kimbo06, karebear8706, Dooba, and lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**I am thankful to all those who read, reviewed, alerted and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. It kinda helps...**


	12. Chapter 12

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

"Thank you, Ms. Masen." He bade her goodbye with a genuine smile.

"Call me Elizabeth; 'Ms. Masen' makes me feel like I'm still at the office," she said as she returned his smile before closing the door.

The past hour had transformed his outlook on life in more ways than one. He had a lot to think about and volumes to re-evaluate. The path to the future that was laid out for him had shifted. He would now have to forge new passages to make room for all the changes. He knew that no matter which course he finally settled upon, Edward would always be a part of it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

**Carlisle, 2009**

Carlisle stopped reminiscing as his car neared the downtown area. The memories had brought forth a wave of despair and pain, and he cursed under his breath in anger. He blamed Mrs. Cope for her impudence.

_How dare she confront me with matters that are already crippling me from the inside_! _Does she think she is indispensible?_

He held her responsible for spurring him on to revisit the past. He didn't want to think about his loss; he didn't want to recapitulate how he had been so thoroughly defeated and destroyed by the hands of those he loved and trusted.

When Carlisle arrived at his business headquarters in Seattle he was in a definite foul mood. It wasn't outside the norm for him these days. Being around people had become increasingly difficult for him over the past years. His wakeful moments were either spent to repel everyone around him with his icy cold exterior, or lash out with ruthless deliberation if anyone had the audacity to approach him. His mind had become the seething cauldron of a witch's brew; those with a sharper sense of self preservation knew they should keep their distance to avoid the deadly, noxious spell. However, the staff in his immediate employ had little chance of evading him at all times.

He stealthily made his way to his office located on the top floor of the high rise. People scurried away to make room for him as he quickly passed them by. Some greeted him reverently with 'good afternoon, sir', which he mostly ignored. As he entered his office, he barked at his executive assistant, Amanda Palmer, to send for David Andrews, the head of the PR division.

He had a long journey ahead of him. He had meetings scheduled in Tokyo, Berlin, and Geneva that needed his personal appearance. Before commencing the trip, he wanted to check in with his PR team to get an update on when and how his name might appear in the media in the coming weeks.

Ever since the rude awakening he'd gotten nearly twenty years ago, his Public Relations division had become a crucial part of his operation. It comprised of over one hundred and twenty personnel and occupied an entire floor of his headquarters. The department was very well funded and answered only to him. However, the term 'PR' might be misleading in the context of the task they actually performed for him. Their prime directive was to ensure his privacy and to guarantee that the name or image of him, or anyone in his family, didn't end up in tabloids or gossip magazines, as opposed to endearing him to the public for gaining the market advantage.

The PR division was manned by some of the best investigative minds in the country. They diligently gathered intel through their feelers and spies to stay atop any possible media leakage. They were exceedingly good at their job because any breach in their shield meant instant unemployment.

While waiting for David, he leafed through the new memos that had piled up in his absence. His eye caught the name scribbled on one of the documents: Ion One. A quick scan told him that the company had been losing the race against its competitors, and had failed to show a profit in the third quarter as well.

_Ion One._

Another reminder he wished he didn't have to encounter today. He had bought out the entire company through a dummy corporation soon after he'd resumed full control of the Cullen business on his twenty-first birthday. It had been among his innumerable holdings ever since.

He did it in secret because he didn't want Elizabeth to know. She was too proud and surely would have left her job if she knew that not only had he bought the entire company to ensure her steady and guaranteed employment, but that he had given a raise to every single clerical employee across the board to make sure she could raise Edward comfortably on her own.

The company had been functioning more or less profitably for over two decades. Until now that is. For the longest time, it did reasonably well within the niche market of renewable energy users. It was a pioneer for its time, but was floundering now in the face of competition.

It could be saved with some basic restructuring and inflow of capital. But why should he? Elizabeth was dead, and Edward might as well be. Why was he still nursing this dead horse that had no use to him other than serving as a reminder of what a fool he had been all his life? No, he wouldn't do that; the gaping wound on his back where the cruel knife of betrayal had pierced him hadn't stopped bleeding yet.

He picked up the phone and punched a button to connect him to his Chief Operations Officer, Lyle Moreno.

"Moreno here."

"Lyle, this is Carlisle. I am looking at the memo on Ion One – the solar panel producers in Boston. I want to scrap it and cut our losses. Get rid of it; it's toxic asset. Have the papers drafted, so we can start the liquidation process after I get back from my trip," he ordered in a clipped tone that he usually used on all his employees.

"Uhh… of course sir, it will be ready, but… are you sure? Our usual policy is to monitor the output rate for a full fiscal year before pulling the plug. Ion One hasn't yet sunk to the point-"

"I have taken that into consideration. Please carry on with my orders," he spat out through gritted teeth, and hung up the phone without bothering with pleasantries.

_The insolence!_

He was in half a mind to send Moreno packing along with Ion One.

He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, as if he could wipe away the rage that simmered behind the lids night and day, with just a swipe.

Thankfully, David Andrews' arrival shook him out of his wrath filled musings.

The meeting didn't last long, with David quickly filling him in on the list of print and visual media he was likely to appear in in the coming weeks: a possible mention in the editorial of the next issue of the Wall Street Journal and a feature in Der Spiegel in Germany. Both met with his approval. Fortunately, there weren't any undesirables on the menu today.

Carlisle had a simple system in place for David and his team to follow: divide all public inquisitiveness in two neat piles; acceptable and undesirable. Very few publications and media outlets qualified as the first. Everything else fell into the second category. David's job was to squash the story, regardless of how harmless or small it might be, from ever appearing in the undesirable networks. Even the acceptable ones had to be screened for content after the initial approval.

Carlisle Cullen's single-minded determination to control how the media portrayed him verged on the obsessive. But he wasn't apologetic about it. Experience had taught him to be cautious; he had paid a very high price once for a careless oversight. He was hell bent on making sure that it never happened again.

As their meeting came to its conclusion, David began to gather his papers and reports to leave.

"Have a good trip, sir. I'll be sure to get in touch with you if there's anything new on the radar." He left with those parting words.

"…_new on the radar."_

David's choice of words shoved him back in time with a jolt. It seemed that he was experiencing a day of remembrance. Everywhere he looked and everything he heard today were sending him on a tailspin. It was David who had uttered those words five years ago when he brought 'Fresh in Forks' to his attention.

_David had very apologetically revealed to him that they caught something 'new on the radar', but unfortunately it was spotted a little too late. Some two-cent, local newsletter called 'Fresh in Forks' had printed an article on him, detailing his charitable nature. _

"_How did you miss it?" Carlisle wasn't pleased, predictably._

"_Sir, with print media, we only screen for publications with a minimum level of distribution. This one falls far short of that mark. It's strictly local. We weren't really looking for it."_

"_Well then lower the bar so these two-bit 'pamphlets' don't fall through the crack."_

"_We will, sir; we are taking this as a very important learning exercise. We will re-strategize to prevent this from happening again." David tried futilely to put a positive spin on things._

"_How many copies are in the stand?" Carlisle asked._

"_Just three hundred in print and quite possibly less in circulation. We are following the protocol, sir. Every unsold copy will be pulped within the week."_

"_Who's the reporter?"_

"_I don't think this was professional work, sir. It's some high school kid called Isabella Swan. I gather her father used to work for you."_

_Carlisle searched his memory and recalled visiting a distraught family in the hospital about three years ago. He remembered offering to pay his former security guard's medical bills. Had Jenks not made it clear to the Swans the terms and conditions of his generosity? He made a mental note to look into the matter before the end of business that day and turned his attention back to the man fidgeting before him. _

"_Who's in charge of the Pacific North?" However small, a breach had taken place and heads would roll._

"_Uh… it's Muligan, sir, Kate Muligan. She's done great work for the team until now." David tried to defend the potential scapegoat. _

"_She's fired. Get a decent replacement within the month." The decisive tone made it clear that the meeting was over. "And David, don't let this happen again, I don't want to replace the entire team," he warned._

"_Right, sir. It won't happen again, we'll make sure of that." David swallowed hard as he spoke and then bowed his head in reverence as he left the room. _

_Carlisle picked up the copy of 'Fresh in Forks' that David had left on the desk for him and leafed through it. _

_He buzzed Carmen, his then assistant, to get Harold Jenks for him on the phone. _

"_Good afternoon, Mr. Cullen, what can I do for you today?" Harold Jenk's eager voice came through the line._

"_I asked you to handle an account a while back; to take care of the medical bills of one of my security guards." Carlisle went straight to the point; he rarely bothered with pleasantries. It wasted so much time, he felt._

"_Yes… if I recall correctly, it was a certain Swan family? Yes, I set up an expense account for them, as per your instructions. Have there been any problems, Mr. Cullen?" Harold asked with apprehension. He had inherited the Cullens' business from his father and would hate to lose his highest paying client over some stupid oversight._

"_Did you make it perfectly clear to the family that I had certain expectations with regards to them not blabbing to the media?" Carlisle asked._

"_Of course, Mr. Cullen. I explained it quite thoroughly. In fact, I have it on paper too. Mrs. Swan understood and agreed to all conditions, and signed a standard non-disclosure. Has she been talking to the tabloids?"_

"_Something like that; their daughter wrote an article for a local newsletter. Stupid kids! I want you to handle this immediately, Jenks," Carlisle instructed._

"_Yes, absolutely. The Swans are clearly in violation of the agreement they'd signed. You have very good grounds to bring legal action against them. I will file for a civil suit immediately," Harold answered enthusiastically, eager to demonstrate his usefulness in __managing the Cullen personal finances._

"_What? No, don't be ridiculous! What will I be suing them for? A used bedpan? Use your head, for once." He didn't hold back his annoyance at Harold's stereotypical enthusiasm for frivolous lawsuits._

_Carlisle continued in a more calm fashion. "Just cut them off. And let them know in writing why they are being cut off. Close the account."_

"_Yes, sir. I will get around to it right away. However, there might be a few reimbursement requests that are in the works as we speak. Should I cancel those as well? Or just put a moratorium on all future requests?" Harold sought clarification._

"_Uhh… go by the day the damn article came out. Go find a copy; it's called 'Fresh in Forks'. Any requests dated before that can be processed. Are we clear?"_

"_Perfectly, sir. I will take it from here. You have nothing to worry about." Harold quickly moved to appease his most valuable customer. _

"_Good." He hung up the phone with that single word; feeling reasonably satisfied with how he'd handled the problem._

He didn't know it at the time but with that decision, he had effectively triggered the destruction sequence of his life. He had no reason to suspect that inadvertently, he had just opened the door through which Isabella would walk in, and in the end, she would destroy him so completely that his remains would be unrecognizable even to himself.

**AN1: You can find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming**

**AN2: One last time! I am nominated in the Underdog segment (#22 on the voting page) of the Shimmer Awards. I'd be immensely grateful if you chose to vote for me. Or, for someone you think deserves it. Either way, you'll make someone's day. That's good karma! So, please vote.**

**While I'm at it, I humbly request you to consider my friends as well:**

**BellaScotia (Secrets and Lies), Mehek18 (Best Banner), Bronzehyperion (Bring on the Wonder), BelleDean (Crash), Tkegl (Beyond Time), Jackson's Cupcake/LadyTazz7 (Control, Secret Lovers, and Ladies & Liquor), ****KzintiKiller/TwiHusband**** (Wish Granted), Dooba (Torn) and lt90 (Uptown Realty).**

**Here's the link: http : / shimmerawards . blogspot . com/ (remove the space)**

**AN3: Story rec-Wish Granted by ****KzintiKiller/TwiHusband****.**  
><strong>Summary: <strong>**Jacob gets his fondest wish. A world without magic, vampires, or Edward Cullen. The world in which Bella Swan is free to be his soul mate. Warning: NOT Team Jacob territory.**

**It's a really short OS that should be on the curriculum of every Twi read list! I kid you not! Please read and vote for it at Shimmers!**

**AN4: Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without you. Please read her story The Long Walk Home.**

**Thanks to Tkegl, kimbo06, karebear8706, Dooba, Shattered1025, KrazyK85_, Twinerdforlife, jneag2071, LauraHilary, ****I2want2knowu, Tina, ****and lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**Thank you WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**I am thankful to all those who read, reviewed, alerted and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. It kinda helps...**


	13. Chapter 13

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

*********R****ead ONLY if you are having trouble following the timeline*********

**I have been made aware that following the time leap is proving to be confusing for some. So, to clarify, I am summarizing the timeline here:**

**- The story opened in September 2009. It was mentioned in ch 2 that it was Bella's birthday (13 September, 2009). The story is moving forward from that point on, unless it's a flashback chapter. However, this progression may not parallel perfectly between Bella and Carlisle. Check the time prompt in the beginning on each chapter.**

**- Between ch 1 and 12, few weeks have passed by. So, it's sometime in October 2009 in ch 12. **

**- Ch 8 first showed Carlisle in the morning of the same day as ch 12. He was reminiscing about the past through ch 9, 10, and 11.**

**- Ch 13 is partly a flashback chapter that starts in 2009 then goes back to 2004 and back again. **

**- I tried to add year/age prompt to the beginning of each chapter but FF only let me go back as far as ch 4. So ch 1-3 are still a little confusing. I am so sorry!**

**- I am separating flashback from the regular text with italics if within the same chapter. From now on, I will use symbols (~CBE~) to separate them too. **

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 12:

He didn't know it at the time but with that decision, he had effectively triggered the destruction sequence of his life. He had no reason to suspect that inadvertently, he had just opened the door through which Isabella would walk in, and in the end, she would destroy him so completely that his remains would be unrecognizable even to himself.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

**Carlisle, October 2009**

The buzzing sound of the intercom pulled him back to reality. Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts, he picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Sir, Mr. Mckenzie from the airport called. Your flight has been cleared and the jet is ready. Your first meeting is scheduled for 10:00am tomorrow morning local time in Berlin. If you leave by five, you ought to be able to make it in with good time," Amanda prattled on rapidly.

Carlisle frowned in displeasure. Amanda was a relatively new recruit to his personal rank of staff. She had the credentials, no doubt, but her overly enthusiastic nature was not a welcome distraction today. "Amanda, if I need reminders on things I will ask you to make a note of it. Thank you for your proactive initiative, but I'd advise you to be more discerning about matters you _feel_ are worthy of disturbing me with."

He hung up without giving the woman a chance to apologize. There really was no winning with him today.

Amanda had been transferred from the HR to fill in the coveted position of his Executive Assistant. She had some big shoes to fill. Her predecessor, Carmen Lake, was a formidable force to recon with. Her place in the office was cemented as solidly as that of Eleazar's. Eleazar looked out for the Cullen interests, protecting it against market shifts and economic downturns, where as Carmen vigilantly shielded her employer from all kinds of in-house dissension.

Despite the difference in hierarchy, Carmen was just as respected and feared as Eleazar among the employees. If he was the impenetrable, titanium armor that guarded the Cullen empire from the cut-throat, corporate world, then she was the immune system that fought off all unwanted infections from within.

_Carmen Lake_.

Yet another name on the very short list of people who'd cared for him beyond the call of duty; yet another person who was now gone forever. Someday, perhaps not too long from now, there would be no one left who cared for him one bit. In fact, apart from Eleazar, was there anyone who thought of him with anything other than fear and loathing? Probably not.

Carmen Lake cared for Carlisle. She'd worked for his father all of her life, and was there for him when he took up the helm of the business on his twenty-first birthday. He fondly remembered the matronly figure who used to let him play with colorful stationary every time he visited his dad in his office. She would ruffle his hair and keep him entertained when Kyle would be busy with meetings. She even extended her services to look after him on several occasions right after his mother's death, when Kyle was too distraught to even look at his son, and Eleazar was too busy grieving for his own loss and keeping the business afloat.

She refused to address him as 'Mr. Cullen' and never hesitated to call him out when she felt his head was getting too inflated for his own good. To Carmen he was always the shy, lonely boy playing with office supplies. She didn't think twice to admonish him for working too late at the office or for being too harsh on an employee. On the same note, she'd be the first to defend him, fiercely if necessary, if there was even a peep among the ranks about his style of leadership.

After nearly five decades of dedicated service, Carmen had reluctantly retired from her post a few months short of her seventieth birthday, way past the standard age of retirement. Kyle had made special provisions for her in his will, and Carlisle supplemented it even further by making sure she enjoyed her remaining golden years in utmost comfort and luxury. He had bought her an ocean-side house in California so she could be near her grandchildren with a generous pension to guarantee a carefree life. Sadly, she died in her sleep just two months after moving into her mansion by the Pacific. Carlisle mourned her loss and was present at her funeral.

She was the quintessential mother-hen whose loyalty he could always count on. She devoted nearly twenty years of her career to smooth the crinkles out of his life and to protect him to the best of her ability. Ironically, her very last act before stepping down was to orchestrate a fateful meeting that would lead to his downfall.

Carlisle made good use of the next few hours, efficiently going through the paperwork and tying up loose ends neatly before his impending trip. But his mind kept drifting back to Carmen and his last encounter with her.

_~CBE~_

_Five years ago, Carlisle had rushed back from a trip to Japan because he wanted to say goodbye to Carmen personally on her last day at work. He flew out straight from his meeting in Tokyo and was dog tired when his car pulled in to the Cullen headquarters. It was already past five, but he knew Carmen would still be in, holding down the fortress. _

_As he stepped out of the elevator to head for his office, the evening receptionist informed him that he had a visitor waiting for him. He scrunched his brow. He was quite certain his calendar was clear for the evening and he wasn't expecting any callers. _

"_Who is it?" he asked with slight impatience. He was tired and didn't like the prospect of dealing with matters he wasn't prepared for._

"_Isabella Swan, sir. She said it was extremely urgent that she spoke with you." _

_Swan. He recalled his meeting with David a week ago and calling Jenks to cut off all financial help to the offending family. Of course they would send the kid to plead their case. _

_Great!_

_He was decidedly irritated now. _

"_How the hell did she get past security?" he asked the receptionist with clear annoyance. If random people from the street could get inside his office without any invitation, appointment, or security clearance, then he definitely needed to go shopping for a better team. _

"_Uhh… they were about to, sir, but Miss Lake said it was ok; that you'd want to speak to her. She is in Miss Lake's office," the receptionist explained, hoping his employer wouldn't kill the messenger in his hasty anger. _

_In Carlisle's absence, Carmen ruled the roost. The security wouldn't dare to disobey her. Carlisle groaned in frustration. What was she up to now?_

_Almost as if she could hear her name being mentioned, Carmen came out of her office and waved at Carlisle to follow her. Taking in a resigned breath, he trailed her to the deserted conference room, hoping she'd enlighten him as to why she was ruining her last day at work by adding an unnecessary plight to his plate._

"_Look at you; you look dehydrated. Did you have a proper meal on your flight?" She fussed over his appearance, brushing her old, gnarled fingers affectionately through his slightly out of place hair – a feat no one in his employ would dare to attempt. Carlisle was the embodiment of cold and distant to his employees; physically invading his personal space was utterly unthinkable._

"_I'm fine, Carmen. I thought I'd take you out to dinner and celebrate your last day at work, but what do I now hear about you stowing away this girl? Why didn't you let security toss her?" he whined. _

"_Because I read the piece she wrote and I think she deserves a chance to have you hear her out," she stated sagely. "Carlisle, the child thinks you are a hero. And she is far too young to find out what a Scrooge you really are. So, just give her a chance and hear what she has to say. If she wants to apologize, let her."_

_He groaned audibly. _

"_That's what this is all about? You want me to keep helping the Swans? Why didn't you just tell me? If it means so much to you, I'll call Jenks and set it up again. I don't want to listen to any sob story now. Would you please just get rid of her?" he tried to reason with her._

"_Aw, come on, kiddo. It won't kill you to give her five minutes of your time. The poor thing's been waiting since two. Be nice for a change, ok? I know that you have a decent heart in there; take it out for a breather every once in a while, eh?" She spoke with the tone that she used when he was a small boy. She was the only one in the world who'd still call him a 'kiddo', and could make him feel like one too._

"_But, Carm, what about dinner? It's your last day here! I skipped the banquette in Tokyo to see you off," he complained but knew his protests were all for naught._

"_Sorry, boss man. You gotta take a rain check for that; I already have a date with my grandson. I am only here still 'cause I know, deep down, what a sentimental fool you are, and to make sure you don't toss the girl out the moment you walked it. Now get your hiney in gear and get this over with." _

_She stood up and led him to her office which was adjacent to his own. _

"_You are such a softy, Carm." He shook his head affectionately as they came to stand outside her door._

"_Yah well, I didn't want to mark the end of my career with the sound of a kid's heart breaking cause Santa Clause doesn't exist, ok? So, sue me. Or better yet, fire me, why don't you?" She smiled back with just as much warmth and reached up to brush away some imagined speck of dust off of his shoulder. "I'll miss you, kiddo." Her voice chocked slightly. "Take care of yourself, ok?"_

_He nodded and pulled her into a hug, not caring that someone might catch him being sappy. _

"_Call me before you leave town? Dinner's on me," he whispered to her before pulling away. _

_She opened her door to reveal a small form curled up and sleeping on the couch. _

"_She's been here all day; so I let her have my couch," Carmen explained. "Go to your office, I will send her in."_

_Shaking his head at the elderly lady, and muttering under his breath about how she had gone soft in her old age, Carlisle went to his office to wait for the Swan girl. That was the last time he would ever see Carmen alive. And the first time he'd truly see Isabella – not as the awkward, gangly child he'd once met fleetingly, but as a young woman of bewildering beauty, completely unaware of her strengths, which perhaps made her all the more alluring. _

_~CBE~_

If he knew then what he knew now, he would have fortified himself against that allure and send her on her way after the five minutes that Carmen had asked of him. But he didn't know any better, and he allowed his tired, jetlagged mind to follow the beckon of the siren's call. And as fate would have it, the carefully constructed ship of his life would crash and sink against the deadly rocks of her shore.

**AN1: I need to thank everyone who voted for me at the Shimmers. I won the Underdog category; it was an amazing thing to wake up to this Sunday. I am tremendously grateful! Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**AN2: Story rec-In the Shallows by Porcia**  
><strong>Summary: Everywhere I look, something reminds me of him. Smells, words, colours, songs. For two years I've cried over him. The best thing that's ever happened to me. The love of my life. He left because we were hurting. Because I was in the shallows.<strong>

**This little known gem just completed in 12 chapters. If you only have time to review one story today, please pick In the Shallows. The author and the story deserve your love.**

**AN3: Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Please read her story The Long Walk Home.**

**Thank you Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! She is awesome. Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique. **

**Thank you WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to Dooba, Shattered1025, KrazyK85_, Twinerdforlife, jneag2071, LauraHilary, I2want2knowu, bmango77, musicflare87****, jneag2071, anhanninen, opheliasmuse, and lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, reviewed, alerted and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. It kinda helps... Ok, no shit, it REALLY helps! **


	14. Chapter 14

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 13:

If he knew then what he knew now, he would have fortified himself against that allure and send her on her way after the five minutes that Carmen had asked of him. But he didn't know any better, and he allowed his tired, jetlagged mind to follow the beckon of the siren's call. And as fate would have it, the carefully constructed ship of his life would crash and sink against the deadly rocks of her shore.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Chapter 14<strong>**

**Carlisle, 2004**

"Come in," he said when he heard a hesitant knock on his door.

The scared looking girl walked in with timid steps and came to stand before his vast desk. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide with surprise, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. He saw little resemblance between her and the little girl he once met three years prior. Though to be honest, he hardly noticed her presence at that time.

He tried to recall the content of the article she had written in 'Fresh in Forks'. He had only given it a cursory scan last week, but he remembered the gist. He assumed the letter from Jenks had been delivered to her family by now, and sending in the culprit to grovel was their attempt to seek leniency from him. Despite being exhausted and completely unwilling to meet her moments ago, he was suddenly quite interested to hear what she might have to say.

_This could prove to be entertaining_, he thought.

He waited for her to talk, but she had been rendered completely speechless it seemed. After nearly a full minute of her standing like a deer caught in the headlights, he decided to break the silence.

"Miss Swan, I understand you wanted to see me?"

His words shook her out of the spell and she haltingly began her plea.

"Good evening, sir. Thank you so much for seeing me. I know I should have made an appointment first, but I really needed to see you and apologize. I know you are mad at me- at us. But if you just let me explain sir, you will see it was really just a simple mi-"

"Misunderstanding? You did not write the article in that magazine?" He interrupted her with a sharply pointed question.

"Uhh… no, I mean yes, I did write it, but-"

"And you and your family were aware that I specifically asked that you didn't do that?" He continued on with his razor-sharp questioning.

"Uhh, yes sir, we did, but what happened was really not what you think. I didn't mean any disrespect, or to disregard your… your rules, but-"

"But you still wrote a three-page article and published it in a magazine. Now, how is that not disrespecting me, Miss Swan?"

Isabella was completely flustered and close to tears. Whatever courage that was pushing her on up until this point was liquefied under his terse interrogation. She swallowed down her nerves and tried to form a new line of defense but came up short.

Carlisle found himself enjoying this game immensely. Much to his surprise, witnessing the girl flounder for words and tremble like a new born fawn jolted his mind out of the sluggish jetlag he was experiencing after his long journey. He was no longer yearning for a comfortable bed and some quiet shut eye. She was clearly afraid of him. That was not surprising. He knew he had that effect on people. But there was something in her demeanor that belied more than fear.

She considered him a hero, Carmen had said. A laughable concept, but the awe and reverence with which she looked at him confirmed that theory.

He found that oddly intoxicating. He knew it would take very little to push her over the edge and make her cry. And admittedly, he was slightly curious to see if tears would make her look more enticing or not. But in the end he decided it would be more intriguing to hear her stumble through her words.

Keeping his face impassive, he signaled to the girl. "Would you care to take a seat, Miss Swan?"

She scurried closer and sat down opposite him, still as nervous as ever. She'd been up since the crack of dawn today and her trek through Forks leading to Seattle, and all the way to the Cullen headquarters, hadn't been an easy one. She was tired, hungry, and devastatingly awestruck by Carlisle's very presence.

He looked a million times better than what she remembered. She couldn't look at him directly, neither could she look away. He was angry at her, she could tell. But the carefully worded plea she had planned to deliver had become a mushy blur in her mind as soon as she'd entered his room.

He was looking at her expectantly and she knew she needed to start forming coherent sentences soon. He was a busy man who was under no obligation to give her an audience. She needed to make the best use of the opportunity the kind lady had forged for her; to make him see how the whole affair with 'Fresh in Forks' was not her fault. Or, at the very least, how her parents shouldn't suffer for her mistake.

"Mr. Cullen, sir, I didn't mean to have that piece published at all. I wrote it for my college application. You see, our guidance counselor, Mr. Berty, he thought it would encourage the students if there was some kind of a reward for writing a good essay. He is friends with the editor of the journal, and I guess he really liked mine, 'cause he submitted it." She blurted out the words in a single breath, grateful that he didn't interrupt her.

"This is your college essay?" Carlisle asked incredulously.

"Yes, sir. It was."

"Did you get accepted?"

"Yes, I did."

"And you had no prior knowledge that your guidance counselor was going to submit it for publication?"

Bella was instantly beleaguered by a dilemma; the temptation to lie was great, but wouldn't she be compounding her crime if she misrepresented the truth?

"Uhh… I did know, sort of, I mean he told us he would publish the best essay, but when I signed up I didn't know what I was going to write. And I forgot all about it after I sent off my application." Plagued with guilt, she looked down at her lap.

"So, you are admitting that you've disregarded my request through callousness and poor memory?" He cocked his head and asked her, keeping the amusement out of his face.

Feeling cornered and defenseless, Bella grasped for straws.

"But sir, if you take a look at what I wrote you'll see that I didn't mean any disrespect. It doesn't say anything negative about you; it doesn't have any personal information. There's nothing in there that can ever be of any harm to you, sir."

"I have taken a look, Miss Swan. Writing pretty things about me doesn't change the fact that you have categorically defied the one thing that I asked you not to do. I have some very good reasons for asking your family to keep me out of print. The rationale behind it is not for you to question. And it's not up to you to decide whether or not any harm can come out of it. In fact, your article could very well cause me considerable harm. It has done so already!" He lectured her sternly,

enunciating the last sentence for greater effect.

"How?" she asked with puzzlement in her voice, unable to fathom his accusation. Her befuddled innocence nearly made him want to crack a smile to put her at ease, but he resisted the urge.

He took an exaggerated breath to feign impatience and then began explaining, "Do you know how many people work for me, Miss Swan?"

She shook her head uncertainly. She possibly couldn't hazard a guess.

"In this building alone, I have two thousand and thirty-seven people working for me. In my estate in Forks: thirty-two. Do you suppose all of them have it written in their contract that in the unfortunate event any of them experience a life altering accident or illness, I will look after their family for the rest of their lives? In case you are wondering, it doesn't. How do you suppose my employees will feel if they happen to come by this article of yours? What kind of expectation would I be setting them up for? And how do you think it will influence their morale and productivity when they realize they are not one of the fortunate few to benefit the same way that your family has?

"Have you thought about that, Miss Swan? Do you see now how you have 'harmed' me with your offhanded actions?"

Bella's face paled. Of course she hadn't thought about any of that. Not once did it cross her mind that her devotion and praises for this god-like being could actually cause him so much aggravation. That certainly was not her intention but she did it nonetheless. She single handedly wrecked her family's future, and she'd insulted the man she had nothing but gratitude and high regard for.

All hope and resolve left her body. She slumped in her chair and surrendered to tears that she had no chance of fighting off. She choked out her words in a final supplication.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that. I was wrong. It's my fault. Please don't punish my family for what I did; my mom and dad didn't know. They would never have let me do it if they knew. It's not their fault. Please, sir…"

She covered her face with her hands and sobbed as silently as she could. Like Adam being banished from Eden, she had no defense or excuse as to why she couldn't abide by the one rule her benefactor laid out for her. She would be thrown off of Heaven's edge for her transgressions and she'd be taking her innocent parents with her. The promise of a bright future that came with college was nothing but a pipe dream now.

Carlisle sat frozen for a few moments; all amusement gone from his mind. Though he found everything about this girl enticingly curious, he really didn't want to make her cry. He felt ashamed that he'd been stressing her out for no reason other than his own juvenile entertainment. He had decided to reinstate the Swans as soon as Carmen pleaded their case. She'd deemed it important enough to invest a significant part of her last day at work to bring it to his attention; that was good enough for him. Yet, instead of being nice to the girl like Carmen asked him to be, he'd given her the third degree; just because it pleased him to see her blush profusely and flounder.

"Miss Swan, please don't cry. Here." He reached forward and handed her a handkerchief from his desk drawer, sounding less than sure for the first time since she walked in. He wasn't used to being around crying women. He hadn't the slightest clue as to how to console one.

Realizing she was making him uncomfortable with her tears, Bella pulled herself together using all of her will power. She wiped her face with the handkerchief he offered and taking a deep, shaky breath, she stood up to leave the room.

"Thank you for meeting me, sir, and for helping us all these years. I'm sorry that we… disappointed you. I will leave now," she said in a small voice. She had a lot of hope pinned on this mission. She recalled the promise she made to her mother the night before to fix the mess she had created. She didn't know how she was going to face Renee again.

"Miss Swan, wait." He stopped her before she could make it to the door. "I don't want you to leave here upset like this. Please, take a seat," he said in a much softer tone.

Bella understood how dreadful her appearance must be. It certainly would not be appropriate for her to be seen leaving Mr. Cullen's office in such a sorry state. She had caused enough damage already, however unknowingly. Least she could do was not embarrass him any further in front of his staff. Thankfully there were only a few left in the office at this hour.

She slumped back into the chair and tried to regain her composure as quickly as possible, feeling insignificant and miserable.

Carlisle knew that he could easily wipe away all of her distress by simply letting her know of his decision; that he'd changed his mind and would continue to help her parents regardless of the infraction. But then she'd leave and he'd have no other reason to keep her in his office any longer. He'd been awake for close to twenty-four hours and his brain refused to dwell on the question of why he wanted this girl to keep him company. He found her naïve innocence very refreshing, pleasantly so, and he wanted to indulge himself without analyzing things too much.

"How did you know where to find me?" It wasn't really something he was curious about, as his Seattle office was listed in the phonebook, but he wanted to hear her talk.

"Uhh…I went to your house in Forks, but the people at the gate told me they couldn't help me and suggested I contact your office for any questions. So, I decided to come here personally instead," she said hesitantly.

"You know where I live in Forks?" he asked with bemusement.

"No, I mean yes, I mean it's a small town, sir. There aren't that many nice houses like yours. Also, my mom drove my dad to work once, when I was little. I remembered the way."

She didn't want him to think of her as a crazy stalker. Not knowing his daily routine, she was hoping to catch him at his house before he left for work, wherever that might be. But the apathetic faces of the guards at the gate had set her straight on how naïve her plan was. Not only would she not be granted entrance through the gate without invitation, Mr. Cullen didn't receive uninvited visitors in his home. Her best bet was to try his office in Seattle, they had said.

"I see. And where do you live, Miss Swan? Do you have your own place, or are you still living with your parents?" He pegged her to be around eighteen, given her college plans.

"I live with my parents, sir," she said as blood surged her cheeks. She hated how it made her sound like a child.

"Does your mother know you are here now, so far from home?"

She shook her head. She'd left a note for her mother before leaving home that morning, but at the time she didn't know her mission would lead her to Seattle.

"She must be worrying about you," he pointed out thoughtfully.

She nodded. Yes, her mother probably was quite worried about her by now. She'd been gone all day without a word. She ought to be heading home. She needed to confer with her mother about the coming days and how to navigate the bleak landscape without the Cullen money to prop them up. There would be no college in her future now. The thought depressed her.

"I should go." She figured she'd collected herself enough and wasn't looking as blotchy and upset as she did a while back. "Thank you for your time, sir." She rose from her seat again and decided to risk a glance at his face one last time. She was thankful to see that he didn't look angry.

"Are you driving back by yourself?" he asked.

"No, my car broke down this morning. I took the bus, or three buses," she answered. She wasn't even sure if there were buses going back to Forks that late. She ought to have checked the return timetable. She cursed her stupidity and braced to spend the night at the station.

"You can't possibly be thinking of taking the bus back to Forks now! Even if they have services running this late, it would get you there in the middle of the night. It's not a sound plan," he objected.

"Uhh… I'll be ok, sir. Please don't worry about me. I won't leave the station if there aren't any buses until the morning. I'm sure it's safe." She was naively hoping that a public place like the Greyhound station would be safe enough for a girl to spend the night.

"Nonsense. You will do no such thing. I am heading to Forks tonight and I will drop you off at your house." He spoke with irrefutable authority. He had no plans of making the trek to his estate that night. He was hoping to crash at his condo in Seattle where he spent most nights during the week. But knowing she'd be making such an arduous and unsafe journey all on her own, this late in the evening, decided the matter for him.

Bella looked frightfully torn. She didn't want to inconvenience him, yet she didn't have the courage to protest either.

"I… I don't want to cause any more trouble…" she softly voiced her concern.

"It's no trouble. But I need you to call your mother and let her know that you are safe and that you will be home before," he said as he quickly checked the time on his watch, "eleven. Here, use my phone." He moved the device across the desk so she could use it without having to walk around to his side.

She hesitated again. What would she tell her mother? Would Renee be mad that she'd come all the way to Seattle to confront Mr. Cullen?

Sensing her reluctance, he decided to give her some privacy.

"I'll leave you to it. We'll be on our way in five minutes."

He left her in his office and walked over to the receptionist's desk to have him call his driver to have his car ready.

Bella quickly dialed their house number to let her mother know of her whereabouts. As she had guessed, Renee was frantic with worry. She was riddled with guilt for talking to her daughter so harshly the night before and was terribly afraid that she might have driven Bella away. It took a few moments to calm her down and let her know that she was alright and will be coming home within the next three hours or so.

Renee was shocked to hear that Bella was in Seattle, at Carlisle Cullen's office no less. She had a million questions, but Bella cut the call short after promising to give her all the details once she got home.

As she waited for Carlisle to come and collect her for their drive back to Forks, she began to accept the inevitability of her situation. If it wasn't 'Fresh in Forks', something else would have brought down their precarious house of cards eventually. They possibly couldn't have carried on living off of someone else's generosity forever. Granted it was happening sooner than what would have been ideal, but such was life. At least, now she was almost an adult and her father's medical care had dwindled down to routine check-ups, prescription meds, and physical therapy only. Yes, they occasionally needed a home-carer to cover for times neither her mother nor her could be at home, but if they really tried hard they would be able to come up with some kind of a solution.

The only sure casualty right now would be her immediate dream of a college education, but maybe someday she'd be able to make that happen too. She must not allow this to embitter her for life. She would always be grateful to Carlisle Cullen to make the last three years immeasurably easier for them. She wouldn't hold it against him for deciding to withdraw his support. After all, she did, for all intents and purposes, bite the proverbial hand that fed them. She couldn't blame him for his anger. In her eyes, he still was an angel; a wrathful, avenging one perhaps, but an angel nonetheless.

Instead, she decided to revel in the good fortune of having the chance to be in the same car as Carlisle Cullen for the next several hours. It could very well be the last and only time she'd ever be this close to the man.

Soon Carlisle returned and asked her to follow him to the underground parking lot. The sleek looking luxury car that awaited them was undoubtedly the nicest that she'd ever seen in her life. A well dressed man, whom she correctly assumed to be the chauffeur, held the door open for Carlisle, but he motioned for her to get in first. She found the interior of the car to be just as impressive as the outside. The back cab was nearly as big as a small room with soft, leather seats and a clean, tantalizing smell that she associated with Mr. Carlisle.

She tried to mask her astonishment, but knew she failed when she saw a small smirk on Carlisle's face.

The roads were fairly deserted at this hour, and once the car made it to route 101, she could hardly detect any vibration or noise from the machine to indicate they were moving at all.

"How long had you been waiting for me today?" Carlisle broke the silence.

"Since a little after two."

"When was the last time you ate?" he inquired.

She hadn't eaten anything since the granola bar she wolfed down at the bus station in Port Angeles that morning. The anticipation of her wait and the excitement of actually meeting Carlisle had worked miracles to suppress her hunger pangs until now but she was undoubtedly famished.

"I'm ok. I can eat when I get home," she said without answering him directly.

"Well, I happen to be starving, so I hope you won't mind if we stopped for a bite," he announced.

He instructed the driver to fetch them two orders of burgers when the car pulled into the next rest stop. Ray, the driver got out wordlessly to bring them their food while they both stayed in the car. Ray started the car and resumed their journey after delivering their burgers.

Despite her hunger, she hesitated to dig into her meal. Being served by someone was new to her, particularly when the person bringing her the food was not eating too. In addition, seeing Carlisle eat something as mundane as a rest stop burger threw her off the loop a little. Logically, she knew that he had to eat to survive, just like every other human being, but somehow she'd always imagined him to only take nourishment from the best of the best that the culinary world had to offer.

"Unlike you and me, Ray actually had the chance to have all three meals today. Trust me, Miss Swan, I don't starve those who work for me," Carlisle said, almost as if he could read her mind.

"Uhh… I wasn't… I'm sorry, I never thought you did. Thank you for the food, sir."

"You are welcome," he said with a smile that melted her heart.

They ate in silence. The nourishment rejuvenated her. With her hunger sated, she could truly begin to appreciate the rare opportunity this car ride represented. She was sitting next to Carlisle Cullen; her idol and hero. Regardless of the outcome of her mission today, he was and always would be the miracle that saved her family from sure destitution. The fact that he was angry and disappointed in them now was purely her own fault; the blame for that rested fully on her shoulders.

She tried to observe him without being obvious which, admittedly, wasn't very easy. Carlisle seemed to have a sixth sense about it and would catch her every time she tried to steal a glance. After being caught a few times, leading her face to flush with shame, she deemed it best to look out the window and spare them both the embarrassment. But in the close confines of the car, she was painfully aware of his presence. He was too perfect; too beautiful. Someone like him ought to belong to a pantheon of gods, not among the mere mortals like her. She felt unworthy and out of place.

More than once she wanted to ask him to call her by her first name instead of being addressed so formally, but she couldn't bring herself to speak aloud. So she tucked herself as far into one corner of the seat as possible, and pretended to be invisible as she discreetly tried to catch his reflection on the tinted window of the car.

"What school will you be attending?" Carlisle suddenly asked her, breaking the silence inside the car. He'd noticed the curious way she lowered her gaze every time she spoke to him; with reverence and humility, as though she was addressing royalty. It wasn't anything like the trained etiquette he'd come to expect from the people he encountered in his line of work every day. She intrigued him and he wanted to hear her talk.

"Huh?" She was jolted out of her novice attempt at espionage.

"You said you wrote the essay as a part of your college application. Which school did you apply to?" he elaborated.

"Oh, it's University of Washington; that's where I got accepted."

"What will you be studying there, have you decided?"

"Uh… not really. I was going to start with the core courses. And maybe pick a concentration in year-2." She felt she was being dishonest in her answers. All these plans were moot now. She would not be attending college; at least not in the near future.

The despondency in her voice didn't go unnoticed by Carlisle.

"Aren't you happy with your school choice, Miss Swan?"

"No, no. It's nothing like that; UW was my first choice. It's got a decent social sciences program, and the tuition isn't too bad. And it's close to home." She defended her pick of school. "And please, call me Isabella, or Bella," she added, finally coughing up the courage to make a direct request.

He smiled and tested out her name. "Very well, Isabella. Have you made living arrangements yet? School starts soon, right? Are you planning on living on-campus?"

She lowered her head, sadly recalling the plans she'd made with Alice to share a place near campus. Alice would be so disappointed.

"I… my friend and I were thinking of sharing a place close to the university." She thought best not to elaborate beyond that. She had done her share of groveling for the day; she didn't want the last moments of their shared time to be marred by more pathetic attempts to invoke his sympathy.

"You don't seem too pleased with the prospect. I suppose shared living can be quite taxing, if you are a private person. I'm fairly certain UW offers single-unit dorms. Not sure if you'd get one this late, but I may know just the person who could move your name up the waiting list," he said with an indulging smile.

"Oh… thank you, sir. No, that won't be necessary. You see, I am thinking of deferring my admission this year. So, I don't really need to worry about housing and such. But thank you just the same," she protested lamely.

"Why would you make such a decision _after_ putting so much work into getting accepted?" He scrunched his brow in disapproval. As smart a man as he was, there were draw backs of living a life of abundant riches; the simple connection between his decision to stop supporting the Swans and Bella's academic plans falling through was not instantly obvious to him.

"It's just… I think it'd be best… I'll take a year off, and start school next year maybe." She hoped her explanation sounded reasonable enough. After all, nearly everyone in her graduating class was skipping a year at least before contemplating college.

"Have you officially requested a deferral yet?"

"No, not yet." She wasn't sure if she could request one this late, but it was just as much of a moot point now as her housing situation on campus.

"Are you ordinarily this impulsive, Isabella?" he asked her with a slight reproach in his voice.

Hearing her name fall from his perfect lips made her heart jump to her throat. She hated that she was disappointing him again.

"No, it's not an impulse. I just think… I need to work and save up for tuition now, and I can run errands for my mom if I stayed home; she could use the help. So, taking a year off really is the best thing at the moment."

"I see," he said, finally connecting the dots.

He sat in silence for a while, going over Bella's responses to his questions. He found it remarkable how she was trying to refrain from using her plight to rouse pity. And it was clear that she cared deeply for her family. She reminded him of Elizabeth Masen; compassionate yet proud.

He questioned the merit of holding off telling her about his decision. It felt terrible to see her cry, but it was worse to see how quietly she was surrendering to an uncertain fate. He wanted to tell her now that she had no reason to postpone college; that he'd continue to support her family as before, but just as he prepared to speak he noticed that the girl had fallen asleep in her corner of the seat.

He watched her sleeping form and tried to analyze what he was feeling inside. She was a beautiful, young girl; probably no more than eighteen. Her innocence and gullibility made her extremely alluring to him and he couldn't deny that he was attracted to her. It wasn't only her pretty face, or the look of unalloyed wonder in her brown, expansive eyes. What made her irresistible to him was the way she made him feel. In her presence, he felt like God; and he was finding that this feeling could be quite addictive.

It had been a while since he'd been in a relationship with a woman. In fact, other than a brief and ill-fated engagement in his twenties, he'd had very few romantic relationships in his life. That was not to say he lived a life of celibacy. His work took him to far off places, and like a sailor with a 'wife' in every port, he sought the comfort of a woman's warmth that each locale afforded. He was content with the fleeting encounters and rushed rapture before he had to fly out to his next destination.

Over the course of his long life, he met countless women proficient in the art of pleasure. He had no complaints regarding their skill or style on how they satisfied his needs. But no one could ever make him feel so invincible and omnipotent as the girl sleeping next to him could do by just gazing upon him.

He didn't know what this meant for him, or for her. Would she yield to warm his bed if he asked her to? Quite possibly. But would she still see him the same way afterwards? Was that what he really wanted from her?

Another matter of consideration was her age. She was too young. He could easily have fathered a daughter her age should his life had been that of an ordinary man's. He'd routinely enjoyed the company of young women, but they tended to be at least in their early to mid-twenties. Pursuing a girl her age could be a source of great contention for him. Was she worth the trouble? His image and reputation would be called into question if he openly sought her company. But harboring a secret liaison with her promised a dangerous, slippery slope which he didn't relish either.

His musings were brought to an end when he realized that they were already in the outskirts of Forks. Neither he nor Ray knew the exact location of the Swan household, so he had to wake up Bella from her slumber.

"Wake up, Isabella. We are almost home." He touched her shoulder to shake her gently. In the moments before she opened her eyes, he had to admit to himself that he certainly was enamored by the girl.

He wanted her.

She rapidly sat up to gather her bearings, looking embarrassed for falling asleep.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," she murmured as she averted her eyes shyly.

"No worries. Looked like you could use the rest. Ray here needs to know where your house is. Would you please give him directions?"

They were not too far from her house. As they settled in quietly for the last few minutes of their journey, he prepared to broach the subject of his decision regarding her family.

"Isabella, if I asked you to do something for me, would you do it?" he asked cryptically.

"Uh… me?" She wasn't sure if she had heard him right. What could he possibly want her to do? Of course she would; whatever it was, but she must have misheard him.

"Yes, you. If I asked you to do something for me, would you do it? Without question?" he repeated.

"Anything," she said with complete conviction.

He smiled and apprised her with approval.

"I want you to promise me that you will not defer your admission to college. That you will start school when session starts."

She was completely caught off guard by his request. She had no idea what he was going to ask of her, but she didn't expect this demand either. She felt terribly trapped. She had already promised him her compliance, but she didn't have the means to carry through with his command.

"I…I… uhh…" She struggled with words and then surrendered to complete incoherence. She wanted to cry for repeatedly demonstrating her ineptitude to the man she worshiped.

"And I also need you to deliver a message from me," he continued, pretending not to notice her distress. "I'd like you to tell your mother that everything will be back to as it was. Jenks will call her in a day or two to sort out the mess. Can you promise to do that for me, Isabella?"

It took a moment or two for the implication of his words to sink in. Was he toying with her? He couldn't possibly be so heartless.

"But… but you said that… you said what I did… but you said I damaged your productivity, hurt your business…" She fumbled on without actually being able to articulate her disbelief.

"Yes, you did a terrible thing; disregarding what I had categorically asked you not to do is not something I tolerate normally. But," he paused for effect, "you have done a very good job to convince me that you deserve a second chance. So, if you are willing to make that promise to me, that you will not postpone college, I am willing to overlook your error in judgment, this one time.

"So, what will it be, Isabella?" he asked her with a touch of theatrics, minutely watching her face to see her reaction.

She did not disappoint. Her eyes lit up like a million stars and her face broke into the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen on a woman. She was incandescent with hope and promise, and he felt intoxicated by the sense of power it brought him; the power of knowing that only he could make her blossom like that.

She nodded her head vehemently instead of speaking out loud; coherent speech still seemed to be eluding her. She felt tears pricking her eyes that she wiped away with her hands before they could cause her further embarrassment. Her hero had come through for her again, despite her unworthiness and stupidity. Her heart melted in gratitude. She could barely choke out, "Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome, Isabella. Now I think you should go in before your mother becomes too worried," he said with a satisfied smile, pointing at the house in front of which their car was parked. In all the excitement of the past few minutes Bella hadn't noticed when they had arrived at her home.

She quickly exited the car and stood outside of her house, hoping she could somehow find her voice to properly thank him for his generosity.

"Good luck with college, Isabella. Give my regards to Charlie, would you? I hope we meet again."

With those parting words, his car pulled away from the Swan driveway, leaving behind a bedazzled, young girl rooted to the spot. His rational mind, which normally dictated all his decisions, told him to keep his distance from Isabella Swan; that prettier and better skilled, not to mention age appropriate, substitutes could easily be found elsewhere. But his heart was already addicted to the high only she could provide. As he approached his estate that night, he was already thinking of ways he would orchestrate his next fix.

**AN1: Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Please read her story The Long Walk Home.**

**Thank you Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! She is awesome. Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique.**

**Thank you WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to Dooba, Shattered1025, KrazyK85_, Twinerdforlife, jneag2071, LauraHilary, I2want2knowu, bmango77, musicflare87, jneag2071, anhanninen, opheliasmuse, twilover76, **** lels2768, yesmrcullen, ****and lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**AN2: I check my traffic stat when I post a new chapter and find it absolutely fascinating that I have readers from such far off places as Bangladesh, Israel, and Norway! There's even someone from the United Arab Emirates. Wow! Drop me a line guys; would love to chat.**

**Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming. **

**I am thankful to all those who've read, reviewed, alerted and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. It kinda helps... Ok, no shit, it REALLY helps!**


	15. Chapter 15

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 14:

"Good luck with college, Isabella. Give my regards to Charlie, would you? I hope we meet again."

With those parting words, his car pulled away from the Swan driveway, leaving behind a bedazzled, young girl rooted to the spot. His rational mind, which normally dictated all his decisions, told him to keep his distance from Isabella Swan; that prettier and better skilled, not to mention age appropriate, substitutes could easily be found elsewhere. But his heart was already addicted to the high only she could provide. As he approached his estate that night, he was already thinking of ways he would orchestrate his next fix.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

**Carlisle, October, 2009**

Despite the distractions his mind insisted upon him, Carlisle succeeded in getting a fair amount of work done throughout the remaining hours of his day. He was wrapping up his tasks in preparation for his ride to the airport when he heard a rude rapping on his door.

Amanda hadn't buzzed him about anyone seeking his audience, and he knew he didn't have any meetings scheduled. He exhaled in frustration; it can only be one person: Eleazar.

Surely enough, it was Eleazar who barged in after he called out a reluctant invitation.

Years hadn't mellowed down his gruff and disagreeable disposition. His hair had mostly gone grey, and he was more rotund now than he had been even a few years ago, but he still carried his heavy form with the charm and compassion of an agitated dragon. General consensus in the office about him was that he liked no one and no one liked him, and he never did anything to counter that status quo.

"What can I do for you, El?" Carlisle asked evenly, suppressing his displeasure for being disturbed when he was just about to call it a day.

"I just heard from Moreno that you gave the word to scrap Ion One?" he asked with furrowed brow, not bothering to hide his disapproval.

Carlisle rolled his eyes.

_Ion One. Not again. Why won't it leave me alone?_

Not getting the desired response from Carlisle, Eleazar stepped closer to his desk.

"Since when do you override all the protocol we have in place and label an asset toxic before any proper evaluation's been done? I was working on their finances all last week. They can easily beat the trend with a little injection of capital and minimum, in-house resizing. What gives, Carlisle? Why are you jumping the gun on them?"

Carlisle pinched the bridge of his nose to manage the rage that threatened to boil over. Eleazar was not just another member of his staff; he couldn't subject him to the same tongue lashing Moreno or Amanda would get under the same circumstances.

"Because it's losing money, Eleazar. I don't want this albatross around my neck bleeding us dry," he spat through gritted teeth, trying to sound as civil as possible.

"Bleeding us dry? We both know that at any given moment, at least ten percent of all our business ventures don't turn a profit. That's within the acceptable margin we have mapped out. We don't pull the plug on them at the first sign of floundering.

"Also, if I remember correctly, wasn't it Ion One that you went all out to keep afloat back in 2002 when they lost nearly all of their net worth? There was no solid projection that indicated that they'd pull through then, but you insisted on it regardless. Yet now, when they actually have a fair chance of beating the odds, you are ready to wash your hands off them? And you don't even consult me before making such a decision? What's going on here, Carlisle?"

Eleazar's words were all true, and they stung like they were meant to. Eleazar had a fairly good idea the significance Ion One once held for Carlisle. Not that he approved, but he knew nonetheless.

"I made an executive decision, Eleazar. Just because I bailed them out once doesn't mean I made a pledge to do it repeatedly for all eternity. Please, just accept it and let it go." He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"And what about all of their employees? They have over a thousand people working in their Worcester plant alone. This is not how we do business, Carlisle. We never have." The older man challenged him with a firm resolve that unnerved him. But Carlisle had years of training to perfect his poker face.

"They have a fairly decent severance package. They'll move on and find work somewhere else. It's not my responsibility," he countered with the hard, cold logic that he'd learned from none other than Eleazar himself.

Eleazar didn't make a quick retort. He stood there and observed his nephew for a moment with tired but wise eyes.

"What's happening to you, son? Why are you _really _doing this?" It wasn't Eleazar Goldsmith, the CFO, asking. It was Eleazar, his uncle and mentor.

He had a significant fall out with Eleazar over his association with Isabella Swan five years ago. Eleazar vehemently opposed his decision to pursue her and as a result he had been forced aside from Carlisle's personal life.

Carlisle sadly pondered how all of his woes and anguish could have easily been avoided if he had only heeded his uncle's counsel. Eleazar didn't approve of his unadulterated affections for Edward, but came to accept it half-heartedly after years of badgering and insistence from Carlisle. Eleazar always mistrusted the willful youth and prodded Carlisle to hold off from placing such unreserved faith in his obstinate half-brother.

If only he had listened.

Similarly, Eleazar's opinion of Isabella was nothing short of fervent revulsion when he first learned of Carlisle's intention to marry her. She was wrong for him and there was nothing that could be said to convince him otherwise. As far as Eleazar was concerned, Isabella was the embodiment of unsuitability as the candidate to be the next Mrs. Cullen: she was the wrong age, had bad table manners, wasn't beautiful enough, came from a poor family, had the wrong personality, and above all else, she did not have the desired attitude. He didn't hesitate to make his distaste known, and as often was the case, the voice of reason got cast aside in the face of a woman's lure and charm.

Carlisle would spend the rest of his existence regretting his stupidity.

He chose Isabella over Eleazar's word of caution. So, when his world came crumbling down around him as a direct result of that decision, he hardly had the face to turn to his uncle to seek consolation. His pride wouldn't let him, and neither could he tolerate hearing 'I told you so' from his vindicated mentor.

Eleazar gave him a wide berth and refrained from being inquisitive since Carlisle's wedding to Isabella. Carlisle was initially grateful for the absolute privacy it afforded him to carry on with his mission of vengeance without anyone questioning his methods. He was now fraught with regret. He didn't know how to answer Eleazar's question; he didn't know if he'd be able to survive the judgment he would see in his eyes.

"Nothing is happening to me, El. I just want to branch out to new producers. That's all." Despite his perfectly plausible explanation, he couldn't look the older man in the eye.

Eleazar looked him over with piercing, grey eyes, deep in thought. Then he lowered himself to a chair directly opposite Carlisle across from his desk.

"I know you've been avoiding me, Carlisle. And I've let you do so for the past three years. But don't think for one second that I don't notice how you've been sinking into… this abyss. I am old, not stupid," he spoke quietly. The concern in his voice was unmistakable.

"I don't know what you mean," Carlisle hedged in a last ditch attempt to ward off Eleazar's probing questions.

Eleazar took a deep breath and then began speaking in a low voice.

"You marry a pretty, young girl, against my advice may I add, but instead of being on cloud nine you work fourteen hours a day, seven days a week. Then out of nowhere she ends up in the hospital with an eating disorder? And she has a drinking problem too?" Eleazar cut straight to the point.

Carlisle sighed in frustration. He might have been able to minimize public exposure of Isabella's sojourn to the hospital, but he should have known that very little would escape Eleazar's keen attention. His silence over the matter these past six months did not mean he was ignorant of it; he was only giving him space.

Carlisle had speculated about Eleazar's lack of reaction over the months. But he wondered now if it was pride that had held Eleazar back the same way it restrained Carlisle from seeking consolation from his uncle. After all, he was quite harsh in putting the old man in his place, making it amply clear that his counsel was only welcome regarding matters related to work, not his personal life. How could he expect Eleazar to assert his presence to comfort him after that? He couldn't and he didn't. But Eleazar was big enough to extend an olive branch; he was setting aside his ego to make the first more. But Carlisle was poorly equipped to reciprocate with open honesty.

"You are reading far more into it than there is. She has a problem, I'm dealing with it. People have problems, it's not uncommon." It burned his tongue to lie to Eleazar. But he couldn't bring himself to let anyone else see the true extent of the erosion of his soul.

"And your 'brother'? You didn't buy him a new car on his birthday this year, or the year before. He didn't come home to spend the holidays with you. You didn't try to get him past the Board of Directors once since your wedding. You don't fly out to visit him anymore. And shouldn't he have finished college by now? Where's the grand graduation party? The fanfare? Do you even know where Edward is?" He paused for effect. "Are you still going to tell me there's nothing to it?

Hearing Edward's name being uttered aloud brought him to his knees and even his unimpeachable skill of keeping his face impassive, perfected over a lifetime, couldn't keep him from visibly flinching, as though he'd been hit by a bullet. Even after three years, the gaping wound that he carried within bled afresh.

_Edward. _

_My brother._

_My assassin. _

Carlisle hastily stood up and turned his back on Eleazar. He could feel the presence of impending tears in his eyes that he steadfastly refused to let escape past his lids. He couldn't let his uncle see him like this. He couldn't let anyone see him this broken.

No one in his office ever spoke of Edward in his presence; they never had any reason to do so. Isabella would never dare to either. Sometimes it was almost possible for him to imagine that Edward never existed. Most days he was able to cling to that illusion; most days he could go through a meeting or a merger without letting himself think about the past. But Eleazar had opened the floodgate with a single magic word, and he could feel the ground being washed away beneath his feet in the torrent of emotions and memories.

Edward's birthday was in June. Every year, since he turned sixteen, he got a new car from Carlisle on his birthday. It was their tradition, however extravagant. Not this year though, or the year before. Edward didn't take any of his cars with him when he left, he'd been told. He wondered what he was driving these days. Was it a good car with a decent safety record? He hated himself for caring. He hated himself for not being able to purge his mind of these unwarranted worries.

He hadn't seen Edward in over two years. He didn't know where he was. And he shouldn't care.

The weight of his sorrow became too great and he had to steer his mind away from the devastating onslaught. He focused on anger instead.

_Isabella._

Just the thought of her name was enough to fill his mind with fury. She destroyed everything. She deserved to suffer right alongside him. And she would, he pledged to himself. He scoffed at the doubts he'd been harboring these past months about his treatment of her. She richly deserved every sliver of pain that he subjected her to. No, she deserved worse. He would never forgive her.

He didn't even realize that he was literally shaking with rage until Eleazar placed a hand on his shoulder in a calming gesture. He was so lost in his delirious ploy of revenge that he didn't even notice the older man approach him.

"Carlisle," he said. "I am not your enemy, my son. I am on your side. I always have been, and always will be, on your side. I can't- I won't see you kill yourself like this. Please, talk to me. Let me help."

"I… I… El, I can't… I can't…" Carlisle grasped for the words that eluded him. He had never been this lost, this helpless.

Both of them were startled by the sudden ringing of the intercom. Eleazar answered the phone as Carlisle was still far from being steady with his voice. Amanda informed them that if Carlisle didn't leave soon for the airport he would miss the window of taxiing clearance his private jet had received from the air traffic control at Sea-Tac.

"He'll be out soon," he said into the phone and hung up.

"El… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I have to go now." Carlisle collected himself the best he could and began gathering his papers and files to bring on to his flight.

"Yes, you do. But you are not going alone," Eleazar declared.

"What do you mean? You are not scheduled for this trip. What about your meetings here? I don't have time for you to pack," Carlisle objected hastily.

"I'll cancel my meetings, and I can get what I need once we land there. I am coming with you." He said with finality, leaving no room for argument.

Carlisle could only nod in agreement. He'd been shaken to his core by their conversation earlier and didn't have the will or strength to fight Eleazar off.

An hour later, as their jet was taxiing off the tarmac of Sea-Tac, Eleazar turned his attention to his travel companion once again.

"Tell me everything, Carlisle. From the beginning. Don't shut me out. I am not stupid, but I need to hear it from you. What have they done to you?"

Carlisle was looking out the window, into the pitch-black, night sky. He took a deep breath and without taking his eyes away from the window, in a halting and unwilling voice, began to recount the tale of his woe, and the confession of his crimes.

**IMPORTANT AN: Those of you who are on twitter may know that I used to tweet every Thursday to thank you all. I have been told that this expression of gratitude is apparently grating on people's nerves. If you happen to be one who've been inconvenienced by this and don't want to be annoyed, kindly drop me a PM. I deeply respect your wishes and would stop mentioning you. Being a nuisance was not my intention ever. It saddens me that we have entered that phase of social evolution where gratitude is considered irritating. Oh well, we live and learn...**

**For all observers, I do apologize for the traffic and for clogging up your TLs. I will try to spread it out throughout the day to minimize the pile up as well as push it to once a month instead of every week. However, if the matter is offending to you ideologically, then please feel free to unfollow me. Let me know when you do it so I can return the courtesy; we have no business being in each other's TimeLine.**

**AN2: Inside Man by Ooza**

**Summary: With his parole fast approaching, inmate Edward Masen is looking for a friend. College student Bella Swan stumbles across his profile on a prison pen-pal website. Their friendship is formed over written words, but will it last once he rejoins her world?**

**Chances are you're all reading this already. If not, I can't stress this strongly enough, you should soon. My heart clenched as I was reading the letters Edward wrote to Bella. A true must read.**

**AN3: ****Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Please read her story The Long Walk Home.**

**Thank you Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! She is awesome. Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique.**

**Thank you WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to Dooba, Shattered1025, KrazyK85_, Twinerdforlife, jneag2071, LauraHilary, I2want2knowu, bmango77, musicflare87, anhanninen, opheliasmuse, twilover76, lels2768, yesmrcullen, ****LadyTazz7, ****gredelina1, emilybowden, and lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, reviewed, alerted and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. They help to fight off writers block the same way the flu shot fights off sniffles! **


	16. Chapter 16

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Chapter 16**

13th September, 2008

Somewhere above the Atlantic

My dearest Bella,

Happy birthday. I wish I could be with you today. Are you having a big party? Did you get a lot of presents? I hope it's exactly as you wished for.

I realized today that it's been nearly two years since I've last seen you. I keep trying to picture your face when I close my eyes; I keep looking for your likeness in all the brown haired girls when I walk past them. I know it's wrong of me to think of you like this; you have made your choice and I can't fault you for choosing what's best for you. But it still makes me sad sometimes.

I hate that I am beginning to forget how your face looks in the morning light.

I probably shouldn't have said that. I don't want to make you feel guilty or bad about this. You did the right thing and I have learned to accept that. I know by now that I can't sway your decision. I can honestly say, however much it hurts me, you couldn't have chosen a better man. Carlisle is a great man, the best there is. He can give you everything you deserve and in return, he deserves the best; that is you.

I am writing to let you know that I am leaving Boston. I am sitting on a plane that's crossing the Atlantic as we speak (or write in this case). I gave up my spot at the Boston Philharmonic. Besides, Jasper was quickly coming to the end of his rope with me. Chances are, he probably won't fire me from the bar, but there's been too many complaints about my pieces; they are too depressing some say. Not something the Friday night crowd can dance away their troubles to. It seems I don't know how to play happy tunes these days. Not any more, anyway.

So, I will be going away with some people I met at the bar. They are trying to make a documentary on the mountain gorillas and some other endangered animals around the world. Gatsby (his real name, I swear!), the director, liked some of my frames and cityscapes that Jasper uses in the bar. I told him that I have no real training on wildlife photography, but he's convinced that I have the 'eye' to see beyond the obvious.

Our first stop will be the Volcanoes National Park in Rwanda. I can't say I am terribly prepared for this, other than the briefing Gatsby gave me.

I know you won't be reading this, 'cause I don't think I will ever send this to you. But somewhere in my heart, I feel the need to tell you where I am at all times. I can't shake this silly hope that maybe you'll change your mind someday, and if you do, how will you find me if you don't know where I am? Writing longhand letters is all I have left, I'm afraid. What other way do I have? You won't accept my emails. You have even changed your phone number.

This is the only option left to me now.

Of course, all of the above is moot since you won't change your mind. I know that. What use do you have of knowing my whereabouts? I suppose this is the only indulgence I can allow myself; I hope you won't begrudge me that.

The plane I'm on will take us to Paris, and from there we will switch flights to make our way to the heart of Africa. I have no idea what is waiting for me out there; what kind of food they have, or even if they have clean water. But we are all well vaccinated, so hopefully we won't get sick at least.

I think I have babbled quite a lot about myself. Do you mind if we talk about you now?

I feel I should ask, how's your dad? I hope he is doing well in the warmth of Florida. Did your parents fly in to be with you on your birthday? Did you take a lot of pictures? I remember you told me once that you used to look forward to your birthdays 'cause the cake your mom made for you was to die for. Did she bake you one this year?

How is college? Did you finish this year like you planned? Will you go on to grad school? What about Alice? I know I never met her, but I feel like I know her from what you told me. Is it strange to feel that way? I suppose it is.

How is my brother? Is he well? Are you two happy together?

I really didn't want to ask that, but some morbid, masochist part of me can't help but wonder about these things.

I want you to be happy, even if it is not with me. I want him to be happy too. Yet here I am, keep running away because I don't have the strength to see it with my own eyes.

I don't think I know who I am any more.

I miss you so much. Do you miss me? Even a little bit?

I will write again when we get to our outpost. It could be a few weeks.

Once again, I wish you a very happy birthday.

With all my love and a million warm wishes,

Edward

**AN1: Ladies and ladies, I give you Edward. Give me your thoughts. **

**A lot of my friends are nominated at the Tomato Soup Award. Please head over there and vote. These amazing people deserve a nod. Go on, make their day! You won't regret it. The link is in my FF profile.**

**AN2: Story rec: The Cherished by ****PerAmore91**

**Summary: In 1918 before the closing of the war, Edward writes letters to his beloved until they can meet again. They both yearn for each other's touch and love, but as time between them is lost, so are the letters.**

**The delightful short chapters are perfectly packed with emotional punch. Give it a shot.**

**AN: Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Please read her story The Long Walk Home.**

**Thank you Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! She is awesome. Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique.**

**Thank you WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to ****idealskeptic, DariaChenowith, December_LeNoir, KekahJ, KlrTwiLuver, ****Dooba, Shattered1025, Twinerdforlife, jneag2071, I2want2knowu, musicflare87, opheliasmuse, twilover76, lels2768, yesmrcullen, LadyTazz7, and lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, reviewed, alerted and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. They make me do mental back-flips! **


	17. Chapter 17

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of chapter 7

If she could just explain to him her honest mistake and if he could actually read the essay, he would see that she hadn't really broken any rules and maybe he'd forgive them. Also, he graced the cover of The Economist a few months ago, if he was ok with that, maybe he could be made to see reason that her mistake wasn't so grave.

With that seed of hope in mind, Bella went to her room to spend a sleepless night, waiting for the morning to come. She would go to Carlisle Cullen and plead their case. He was kind and he was just. He would listen; she had faith.

_He saved us once; I know he will save us again._

And the next day, three years after she'd seen him at the hospital, Bella went to find Carlisle Cullen.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

**Bella, December 2009**

"One hundred and five pounds! Bella, you did it!" Sylvia cope announced cheerfully as she quickly jotted down the number in her notebook.

She didn't stop at that. As soon as Bella stepped off the weighing scale she pulled her into a warm hug.

"How great is this? You have done splendidly. You stayed the course the entire way through. I'm so proud of you. We need to celebrate," she declared.

Bella tried to appear happy about the new development. She supposed she had cleared a great milestone, but she wasn't sure whether or not that translated to something worth celebrating.

"I know it's rather cold outdoors, but maybe we could take a bunch of blankets and have a picnic of sorts by the cliff. What do you say?" Sylvia asked excitedly, her tireless optimism pouring through her words.

Bella wasn't particularly keen on braving the elements and taking a trek outside, but relented rather than engaging in a conversation to explain why she didn't want to go. She had come to learn that it saved her more trouble in the long run.

Thus, thirty minutes later she found herself sitting on one of the frozen picnic benches right by the cliff, quietly shivering but unable to coax up the care to reach for an extra blanket. She warily eyed the large hot-box Sylvia Cope had carried along to this unseasonable and impromptu picnic. Quite likely it contained items of food that she'd soon be subjected to.

_Celebration. _

_Fantastic._

She wondered if there would ever be a time again when the thought of food wouldn't be accompanied by the residual memory of bile and retching. For close to two years she resorted to the easiest solution available to her in managing her strange ailment. The sight, smell and taste of food made her nauseous, so avoiding it relieved her of the immediate malady. Then she discovered the opacity and numbness an empty stomach could bring when mixed with alcohol. She wasn't aiming for it but embraced it gladly when the perfect escape, limited as it was, presented itself. No one noticed, or even cared, until she collapsed that day in the library.

When she was first released from the hospital, it took a herculean effort for her to keep the food down. But she had to learn fairly quickly that she simply wasn't allowed to get sick, no matter how violently her stomach wanted to reject the nutrients. She made the terrible mistake of throwing up the breakfast Mrs. Cope had cooked for her right after she came to live in the house. Bella was still considerably weak from her short but fateful hospital stay and couldn't pull herself up from the bathroom floor afterwards. Out of instinctive concern, Mrs. Cope placed a call to her husband.

_~CBE~_

_When he came home he smoothly asked Sylvia Cope to prepare the meal for Bella again. _

"_Please have something ready for my wife, Mrs. Cope. She will come down to have her meal shortly." He moved closer to the bed where Bella was lying after dismissing the woman with his instructions._

"_Uhh… I don't think she's up for that yet, sir. Perhaps it's best to let her rest for a while. I could get her something light in the evening," Mrs. Cope interjected._

"_She is up for it now. Please have her meal ready Mrs. Cope; she will be down shortly." He spoke with the polite authority that left little open to argument. The matronly woman sensed the finality in his voice and hesitantly left the room to follow through with his order._

_Bella was curled up on the bed, shivering more out of fear than the cold that usually assailed her after her body went through a purging. She was too woozy in her head to stop Mrs. Cope from calling her husband earlier, but several hours had passed since her breakfast debacle and her senses had recovered sufficiently in the mean time. The situation she now found herself in didn't bode too well. And her fears were soon confirmed._

_Carlisle crouched down next to the bed so he could talk to her without raising his voice. _

"_I made it perfectly clear that I will not tolerate any more stunts from you. You will get up, go downstairs, and eat whatever the _fuck_ you are served. Do I need to remind you what will happen if you don't do as I say? _

"_I must never hear again that you are making yourself sick. Do you understand me, Isabella?" he asked in near whisper, but every word echoed through her mind with crystal clarity. She understood perfectly._

_That day she ate under her husband's watchful eyes, and rapidly learned the necessary tricks to defy her body's usual propensity of rejecting the food. Small portions, quick mastication, thirty seconds between bites, and no water. The few times her stomach heaved, she pressed down the napkin over her mouth to hide the telltale signs; she sealed her lips and refused to let the rising bile escape from her esophagus. _

_~CBE~_

She had acquired significant control over that aspect of her body's reaction since then. The sight, smell and taste of food still made her sick, but she couldn't allow herself to give in to her stomach's rebellion; she couldn't permit for Mrs. Cope to have a reason to call her husband again. Instead she mechanically shoveled down whatever provisions the nutritionist put before her and swallowed the lumps of mushy remnants that tasted like dirt to her.

Mrs. Cope applauded her for making such resounding progress. She supposed she had her husband to thank for curing her of that particular symptom. If only he could erase the root cause that prompted it.

She squeezed her eyes shut and reeled her mind back from the black depth it was heading towards. She couldn't dwell on _that. _

Not now. Not ever.

"…want some?"

Bella caught the tail end of something Mrs. Cope had been saying. She was so lost in

reminiscing that she didn't even notice that the older woman had dished out something from the hot-box into a mug and was eating it with gusto as she spoke to Bella animatedly.

"Huh?"

"It's chicken celery soup," Sylvia Cope answered while pointing at her mug. "Would you like some?"

She was being given a choice? She couldn't frame a response right away. It had been some time since she enjoyed any kind of freedom about choosing what or when she ate. Being presented with an option surprised her, especially coming from Mrs. Cope. Maybe she was being given this treat as a reward for reaching the milestone goal of gaining back enough weight to be considered 'healthy' again. She was familiar with Mrs. Cope's positive reinforcement methods.

"Uh… no, thank you." She looked away to gaze at the icy-grey ocean.

"Suit yourself. It's pretty good though; warms you up," she said while spooning in another mouthful. "I think I should tell you why I dragged you out here in the cold. Sometimes it feels like the walls have eyes in the house. I thought being out here would make it easier for us to talk. I mean, now that you are not seeing a therapist anymore, maybe it would do you some good to be able to talk to someone. Of course I can't give you the kind of professional guidance Dr. Weber could, but I can be a friend to you.

"I'd like you to know that you can trust me, Bella."

A number of things had changed in the last few months. Bella was no longer under the care of a mental health professional. Her sessions with Dr. Weber came to an explosive end the day her husband decided to comply with the doctor's request and participate in his wife's therapy.

Bella wasn't particularly heartbroken to be relieved of sitting through those mandatory head shrinking sessions. They made her edgy and nervous; she had to guard her secrets, yet was expected to cooperate with Dr. Weber at every turn. More often than not, her two prerogatives came to be at odds with each other.

At least with Mrs. Cope things were simpler: _wash down the food and bite back the nausea. _But now she wanted to be Bella's friend. She claimed that she could be trusted. Could she really trust her?

"I have to tell you that I was really surprised that you stopped therapy so suddenly. I can see of course that you are doing remarkably well – physically- but maybe emotionally you could benefit from seeing someone for a bit longer." Sylvia Cope continued when Bella failed to react to her request.

"I care about you, Bella. I don't have to be a shrink to know that… that there's more… that you are hurting," she paused as she chose her words carefully, "I can tell that you are afraid – of something or _someone._ I really would like to help but I can't until I know what's really going on in your head."

Bella gasped in shock. Mrs. Cope had never been so brazen about her personal opinion before. She didn't know what to say or how to respond. She knew better than to trust anyone who worked for her husband. She hadn't yet forgotten how Rodney ratted her out two years ago. However, unlike Mrs. Cope, Rodney never claimed to be anything other than what he was: a hired gun whose loyalty lay with the one who wrote his paychecks, and no one else.

Mrs. Cope on the other hand had been a constant presence in her life for close to a year now. She was the only real human contact Bella had, and even though most of the time her relentless pursuit of health and well-being distressed and annoyed Bella, she had to admit that the older woman had been nothing but kind to her.

Bella pondered Mrs. Cope's offer of friendship. They spent a major part of their waking hours in each other's company. She found Sylvia Cope to be earnest, upbeat and sincere. But was that grounds enough to trust her? And even if she did, what difference would it make? Not much. Mrs. Cope was in no position to go up against the Goliath that was Carlisle Cullen. By confiding in her she would only guarantee a speedy route to her sure dismissal, should the good lady chose to act upon the confided knowledge. No, it was best to leave her out of the mess. She couldn't help her, even if she wanted to. No one could.

Also, even if she were to confide in someone, what could she possibly say? She lived in a big house, surrounded by luxury. She had servants to cater to her every need and her very own dietitian to keep her in good health. It wasn't even as though her husband was cruel to her - _anymore_.

The last nine months of her life could only be categorized as a strange paradox with relief and anxiety cohabiting in her mind simultaneously. Apart from his stern warnings, her husband hadn't touched her at all the entire time. Yet, instead of being comforted by it, she felt edgy and anxious. Not knowing when the bubble might burst left her in a bizarre limbo. Every moment of respite came with the unbidden fear that this lull won't last.

While Carlisle kept his distance, his absence engulfed her just as effectively if he'd been breathing down her neck. Some nights she could feel eyes watching her. She could sense his presence in the room. On those nights she felt like a carcass being circled by hungry vultures, lying there with the ominous certainly that sooner or later the scavenging birds would swoop down and start feeding off of her. Laying in wait for the moment to come was becoming increasingly difficult. What was he waiting for? Why was he keeping her on the edge like this?

_~CBE~_

_Her confusion deepened the night when she perceived movement in the room. As usual, she was lying as still as possible, keeping her breathing as steady as she could so as not to give away her wakeful state. Then she felt the mattress dip to give way to someone's weight. She nearly jumped out of her skin in fear and confusion. In her surprise she even forgot to keep up the charade of maintaining an even breathing pattern. _

_Many things transpired on this bed during her marriage to her husband; innumerable acts of cruelty and despicable violence. But never in all this time did he ever lay with her in simple companionship and comfort. Yet here he was, sitting on the same bed as she was as if it was the most normal thing in the world for them._

_She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched the covers tightly in her fists as she lay on her side, wishing away the heat of his body that she could feel on her back. She knew prayers were fruitless, but in that moment she desperately prayed that he would not say anything. If he didn't call her out then she could keep pretending that he wasn't there; if he didn't speak out loud then she could have one more night of peace, it would be like it wasn't happening at all. _

_And thankfully he didn't. But what he did do instead scared her far more. She suddenly felt a soft caress on her forehead and her body reacted instinctively before she could reason it to stop. She yelped like a kicked puppy, even though she hadn't been struck, and scrambled away from him as far as the bed would allow. _

_She knew she made a terrible mistake as soon as she did this, but her reflexes and reactions appeared to have fallen out of practice in the intervening months. She crouched in one corner of the bed and trembled in fear. She wished she hadn't been given these months of reprieve from her usual hellish existence. Going back was proving to be far harder than being thrown into it the first time. _

_She didn't know how she'd bear to return to their pre-hospital routine; she didn't know if she'd survive it. But he hadn't spoken and he hadn't struck her yet. She was on uncharted territory and didn't know her way. Biting back the tears she waited for him to say or do something. _

_Which he did; without saying a single word, he left the room. _

_And she was left with even more confusion and fear than she started her night with._

_~CBE~_

Mrs. Cope observed Bella silently as she ate, allowing her the time to contemplate. When she finished she put away the mug and utensils and turned to Bella to resume their talk.

"You should have brought gloves with you; you look like you are freezing. Here-" She pulled out a blanket from the basket and tucked it around Bella.

"Th-thanks." Bella's teeth were chattering due to the cold. It was full blown winter now. Normally, Mrs. Cope would be the first to fuss and insist they go inside to warm up, but she had observed over the months how resigned and weary Bella seemed within the four walls of the mansion. Not to mention the eerie feeling she herself experienced of always being watched.

She'd considered taking Bella out to a café or on a shopping spree but Rodney, Bella's designated bodyguard, was never to let Bella be out of his sight when they left the boundaries of the property; not the most conducive atmosphere for an emotionally scarred girl to open up in. So, an outdoors picnic in the middle of the winter it had to be. She knew they couldn't stay out by the cliff for too long. She had very limited time to convince Bella that she could and should trust her and accept her as a friend.

"There, that's better. Now, would you mind telling me why exactly you stopped therapy all of a sudden?"

Bella fidgeted a little under such a point blank question from Mrs. Cope. She wanted to say that it was none of her business, but didn't want to seem so harsh and ungrateful. She wanted to tell her the truth, but didn't have the courage to form the words. Instead she chose to stutter something innocuous and plausible.

"Uh… it wasn't working out that well. So… so, thought it would be for the best to take a break."

Mrs. Cope listened to her explanation and pondered on it a moment. She then asked, "Was it your decision to take a break? Or… were there other 'factors' that made the decision for you?"

Sylvia would have preferred to ease into this conversation slowly, with a lot of diversions and frills, but she was working under a time constraint and didn't have the luxury to beat around the bush.

Bella looked apprehensive and pulled the blanket closer around her, as if the fluffy fleece could shield her from the unwanted inquiries.

"I… I... it's too cold, I want to go inside." She stood up suddenly, choosing an invasive maneuver to escape the inquisition.

"Bella, wait."

Mrs. Cope wasn't surprised by Bella's instant inclination to flee, but she was hoping she'd be able to get a little further into their conversation before it happened. She reached out and touched Bella's arm, motioning for her to retake her seat on the picnic bench.

"I don't mean to be nosey. If you don't want to talk about therapy right now, that's fine. I'd be happy to listen to anything you are comfortable to share."

Bella restlessly shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and then sat down on the bench uncertainly. She hadn't truly spoken to anyone in a very long time. Her conversations with her parents and Dr. Weber were all about keeping their suspicions at bay. She missed Alice - her quirky, social misfit best friend. She didn't even know where Alice was or what she did for a living these day. Did she finish college on time? Was she an accountant now? Did she have new friends?

For some inexplicable reason, Alice didn't like Carlisle; she was opposed to the idea of Bella getting involved with him back when they were both freshmen at university. The two decade age gap between the couple was only a part of her reservations. Of course, Bella didn't listen.

_If only…_

"Would you care to tell me about your friends, Bella?" Mrs. Cope interrupted Bella's thoughts, as if she could hear her thoughts. "I've been here for quite a few months now, but I haven't seen you go out or have your friends over."

"They don't live nearby anymore," Bella explained simply. "They moved away from Forks to go to college."

"Do they call you?"

_No_.

"Sometimes," Bella lied.

"When I was your age, my sister and I were inseparable. Cynthia and I were less than a year apart and we always stuck together. Boys, dating, relationship advice; we always had each other's back, no matter what the case was. She was my best friend; still is.

"What about you? Is there a friend you have that you trust and can call about anything and everything?" Mrs. Cope asked casually, though she hoped the answer would help her fathom the layers and layers of mental sandbags that Bella had leveed her mind with.

The visible distress on Bella's face gave away that she was treading close with her questions. Before she could press the issue any further, Bella stood up and rapidly began her trek back to the house. "It's getting too cold… I have to go."

Mrs. Cope didn't try to stop her this time. She sighed and quickly gathered the hot-box and the blankets into the basket and followed Bella's trail. It was a good ten minute walk back to the house, and they fell into a steady pace next to each other. Neither spoke until they reached the warmth of the residence. Bella withdrew into her room with a cursory nod to her companion. Mrs. Cope smiled at her reassuringly and as she gazed at Bella's retreating form, she wondered what it would take for her to earn the girl's trust, and if she would be able to do it before it was too late.

**AN1: **** Wintermaerchen is translating Beautiful Sorrow to German, and from the look of it, doing a kick-ass job. She only posted 1 chapter and got 16 reviews. I wasn't so lucky with the original! I am incredibly honored. You will find the link in my profile page. I'd also like to thank papillione for her kind feedback and help. I'm most grateful to you both.**

**AN2: The Tomato Soup Award ended prematurely due to some in-house dissent. From the depth of my heart, I thank those who voted for me. Your support did make a big difference; Beautiful Sorrow won a few awards. **

**AN****3: Thank you for reading and giving me a chance. You can find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**Thank you lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without ****her. ****Please read her story The Long Walk Home.**

**Thank you Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! She is awesome. Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique.**

**Thank you WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most ****grateful.**

**Thanks to****idealskeptic, DariaChenowith, KlrTwiLuver,****Dooba, Shattered1025, Twinerdforlife, musicflare87, opheliasmuse, yesmrcullen, LadyTazz7, ****BookishQua, LadyGwynedd, mamabean30, jenndur, KristenLynn1121, ShinyVolvoLove, Ninnie_89, DrtyMonkey, MrsRachaelM ****and lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, reviewed, alerted and fav-d my story. Kindly review and let me know what you think. It helps... **


	18. Chapter 18

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 17:

Mrs. Cope didn't try to stop her this time. She sighed and quickly gathered the hot-box and the blankets into the basket and followed Bella's trail. It was a good ten minute walk back to the house, and they fell into a steady pace next to each other. Neither spoke until they reached the warmth of the residence. Bella withdrew into her room with a cursory nod to her companion. Mrs. Cope smiled at her reassuringly and as she gazed at Bella's retreating form, she wondered what it would take for her to earn the girl's trust, and if she would be able to do it before it was too late.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

**Bella, December 2009**

Back in her room, a place that was in equal parts her sanctuary and torture chamber, Bella made her way to her favored spot by the bay window and curled up into a ball.

Thanks to Sylvia Cope, her mind kept wandering off to the events surrounding Dr. Weber's dismissal. She found it strange that Mrs. Cope would ask about her friends immediately following the inquiry about her therapy.

Ironically, Dr. Weber brought up the same topic too, which didn't please her husband. She contemplated Mrs. Cope's proposition again. Logic told her that trusting Mrs. Cope as a friend would be a mistake. At best, she could be taken away from her just as easily as Alice, at worst, she could expose her treachery to her husband. Neither prospect appealed to her much.

Maybe Mrs. Cope was acting according to her husband's directions. Maybe he was testing her. What other explanation could there be for her to bring up therapy and friends in the same breath? It had to be a trap that she should steer clear of.

Amidst all the doubts, she recalled the last session with Dr. Weber in an effort to see if she could find any clues that could confirm her suspicion that Carlisle had indeed briefed Sylvia Cope about what had transpired that day. Had Mrs. Cope knowingly brought up the two seemingly unrelated topics to rattle her? Or was it really all a simple coincidence?

_~CBE~_

_After dragging her feet for as long as she could, she finally gathered up the courage to seek out her husband to inform him that her therapist had requested his presence during some of their sessions together. She even took a quick trip to the car port and confirmed that her husband was indeed in the house. It was mid-morning, and she was loitering outside his home office, unable to go the extra mile of actually knocking on the door._

_Finally Carlisle emerged from his office, looking as sharp and elegant as ever. Seeing his wife in the hallway surprised him more than he would have liked to admit, and it cracked through the __ever present impassivity__ of his face. _

"_Isabella?" he asked questioningly as he quickly wiped away the evidence of being caught off guard from his expression. "What do you want?"_

_Bella fidgeted and stammered under his questioning stare, feeling unprepared despite spending the entire morning mentally fortifying herself for this encounter. She could have just called him on the phone or sent him a text. But somehow those methods implied a certain degree of familiarity; a familiarity she no longer had any claim over._

"_Uh… Dr. Weber said… Dr. Weber would like you to come to one of my sessions. I told her you are really busy, but she keeps bringing it up. So, I told her I'd ask you…"_

_She trailed off nervously. Her eyes were trained on the ground and her demeanor gave away the effort she was investing into keeping her from fleeing the scene. _

_Carlisle considered the request with annoyance, but was successful in not letting it show._

"_Why does she want me to be there?" he asked evenly._

"_I don't know." She didn't want to re-tell the explanations Dr. Weber had given her. She didn't think her voice would last long enough to complete the whole spiel._

_Carlisle sighed heavily. It had been a few weeks since Mrs. Cope had come to speak to him about his wife, and just as long since he'd come clean to Eleazar who'd been on his case ever since. His life was in flux, and he really didn't have the inclination to sit through more therapeutic chitchat. _

"_I can't this week. But I'll be there next Wednesday," he informed her curtly._

_Bella nodded her head and quickly made her escape before he could say anything more. _

_True to his word, he showed up in the library the following Wednesday just minutes after Dr. Weber convened the session with her patient. His car and driver were both absent in the car port when she checked earlier that day. Bella couldn't be sure if he'd really show up until the very moment he walked in. _

_He strolled into the room with inherent ease and approached the nook by the fire place which was Dr. Weber's preferred spot to hold these sessions. _

"_Dr. Weber," he greeted the doctor coolly. "I believe you requested my presence here today?"_

"_Ah, Mr. Cullen, so good of you to join us." Dr. Weber stood up to receive him. "Yes, I do believe holding a few sessions with both you and Bella is called for at this point of her treatment. Bella has pointed out how busy you are, so I appreciate you taking the time. Come, please sit."_

_Carlisle took a quick look at the sitting arrangement and after a brief pause took the spot next to his wife on the couch, making sure they weren't touching, yet not too far so as to create the appearance that he was avoiding contact. _

_Bella was relieved and anxious in equal parts. Relieved so she wouldn't have to explain why her husband didn't show; anxious because she had no idea how this would turn out. She quietly resolved to take cue from him and hoped that none of her responses would arouse his ire, that she would be able to successfully walk the fine line of being discreet yet forthcoming._

"_I call your wife by her first name. Would it be ok if I did the same with you while we talk today? May I call you Carlisle?" Dr. Weber asked with professional warmth as she began her prelude to the session._

"_I'd rather you didn't, Dr. Weber," Carlisle responded curtly, setting the boundaries of their interaction off the bat. _

_Much to her credit, Dr. Weber didn't show any sign of being put off by his refusal. Instead, she seamlessly began talking like it was an expected part of the plan. She didn't miss however, that he hadn't directly looked at or acknowledged his wife once since entering the room, nor how she seemed to instinctively make herself as small as possible on the couch. _

"_Very well, Mr. Cullen. Thank you for joining us today." She paused._

"_Bella, I will address only your husband for a few minutes at first, then I'd like to explore a few things that I hope you'll both share your thoughts on. _

"_Mr. Cullen, as you know, Bella has made some great strides since we started our work together. I'm happy to say that physically she has grown much stronger than how she was when we first met. I believe she is very committed at overcoming her dependence on alcohol and improving her health. _

"_However, finding a good combat method is only part of the healing process. To truly move forward and bring closure to a problem, one needs to find its roots. And I have my concerns about how willing or ready Bella is at this point to take that step. I believe one way of getting to the bottom of this could be through exploring her ties to those who are a part of her inner circle._

"_Substance abuse or self harm is a complex matter that is seldom restricted to the immediate perimeters of the individual. Very few exceptions aside, it rarely occurs without any external stimuli, but the chance of a 'cure' to work effectively is almost nil if the person doesn't have a sound support system from his or her loved ones. Friends and family play a big role in all of this, which is why I asked you to join us. _

"_Ordinarily, I would have really liked to include Bella's parents in this process. However, I've been told that you are reluctant to involve them, or even inform them of the situation, due to her father's health condition, and to a great extent I can understand your concern. _

"_In their absence, we need to call in those who are next in line; in this case you, Mr. Cullen._

"_I would also like to add that…" she paused as she noticed Carlisle making a not so subtle gesture of impatience with his bouncing knees and tapping of his fingers on the armrest of the couch. "Yes, Mr. Cullen?"_

"_I am not an imbecile, Dr. Weber. I get it. Can we please skip the preamble and just get on with it?" he said with not so thinly veiled irritation in his voice, and this time it did manage to bring a slight frown upon Dr. Weber's face._

"_I understand your time is valuable, Mr. Cullen, as is mine. My intensions were to ease you both into a comfortable setting. Bella and I had months of practice, if you may, but your presence here is new to her. I need both of you to feel at ease, particularly Bella. But if you are so inclined, I suppose we could get to the point quicker. _

"_Are you ok with that, Bella?" Dr. Weber addressed her patient directly._

_Bella nodded her head in affirmative. She was just as eager to get this session over with as her husband._

"_Very well, we shall move on. _

"_How do you feel about the progress that's taking place here? I know the last six months haven't been easy on either of you, but we have covered a lot of ground, and I'd like to think we've made some notable development since we started. Could you perhaps tell me a bit about your impression of it?" Dr. Weber said as she looked at both Carlisle and Bella expectantly._

_Bella looked at her husband to get her cue and closed her mouth when Carlisle leaned forward and began to speak. "We are of course very pleased with the progress she's making," Carlisle answered for them both with clear authority. Bella deferred to his lead without hesitation._

_Dr. Weber quietly took note. If Carlisle's propensity to speak for his wife bothered her, she showed no sign of it. _

"_Over the last few weeks I've made a few suggestions with regards to the next step for Bella. And now that I have you both here, maybe we could find a point of consensus so we can move forward. _

"_Until now, Bella has been living in seclusion, in this protective bubble of sorts." She waved her hand to indicate the surrounding house. "This aided in the initial phase of her recovery; it kept her away from places and people that might pose temptation or enable her to succumb to drinking again. But she can't stay in this confinement forever. Sooner or later she'll have to start venturing out into the real world again, where there will be pot holes and speed bumps that will test her resolve and strain her recovery._

"_I strongly recommend that she joins an AA group. Being in the company of others who are suffering the same plight could help her to go through a rough patch much better than if she were to do it on her own. Also, the kind of trust and support a sponsor can provide is quite invaluable."_

_Dr. Weber paused for a moment and then looked at Bella directly before continuing._

"_Bella, I recall you were quite reluctant to consider this the last time we spoke, but I told you that we will revisit this matter again. That's what I am doing now. I would like us to talk about it and ask that we discuss this together with Mr. Cullen before you-"_

"_No, that's not acceptable," Carlisle interjected before the doctor could finish her sentence._

"_Excuse me?" _

"_My wife will not be going to some seedy church basement and air out our dirty laundry in front of a roomful of alcoholics. That is not acceptable," he said in a stern voice that quite accurately represented his distaste for the idea._

_Dr. Weber's face betrayed signs of displeasure which she quickly masked with her poised professionalism. _

"_Mr. Cullen, I'm afraid you are harboring an outdated and prejudicial notion of what AA is about. It's an immensely useful resource that Bella could benefit from. I ask that you take some time to rethink your position and make an _informative _decision before taking such a negative stance. I would hate to see your… somewhat flawed opinion influence Bella's decision."_

"_However useful it may be, it's not an option for us. So, I suggest you move on to the next 12-steps program you have that does not involve my wife comparing notes with a bunch of low-life losers. That's your job; that's the reason why I hired you." His words were imbued with irritation and not so well masked resentment. He never had any personal experience with therapy before, and even though he intended for this meeting to end civilly, it was quickly spiraling out of hand. He was struggling to rein in his temper that was rising like an irrational tsunami every time the doctor opened her mouth._

"_I haven't forgotten. I take my job very seriously, Mr. Cullen. That's exactly what I am trying to do here. My work with Bella is not just to oversee that she doesn't drink or purge herself, but to find out what triggered it in the first place, as well as to prepare her to re-enter the real world outside of this house. But I am beginning to doubt now if this is the most conducive environment for her to achieve that. _

"_Maybe you'd be open to a temporary change in the living arrangement? Perhaps Bella could stay with her parents in Florida for a little while? I can refer her to one of the best therapists there. What do you think of that, Bella? I wouldn't insist that you confide in your parents immediately; I know it could take some time before you are ready for that. But with the progress you have made up to this point, I am fairly confident that staying with them won't be too much of a challenge for you. Would you like that?"_

_Once again Carlisle intervened before Bella could open her mouth, this time with a noticeably raised voice._

"_What? Am I hearing this right? You are suggesting that my wife, a recovering alcoholic, moves in with her parents? The parents who know nothing of her problems? In a house where she will have access to a free range of cheap beer, with no monitoring, no supervision? Where did you get your degree from? _

"_And how dare you suggest that this is not a 'conducive environment' for her. This is her home! This is where she belongs, and this is where she'll stay. You came highly recommended, but that does not mean you are infallible. Your methods are irresponsible, and quite honestly, I am finding you grossly incompetent in handling this case."_

"_My degree is from Yale, Mr. Cullen, as you may recall. And I am saddened by your… appraisal of my performance. You are welcome to verify or scrutinize my credentials and methods all you like, sir. But by attacking me, and by extension my efforts to help your wife, you are only bringing to light the concerns I've just posed about your suitability as the person to be in charge of Bella's care._

"_And while we are on the topic of my 'methods', I must insist that when I ask Bella a question that you stop answering for her. This session is intended to bring together all the important people in Bella's life, so she is comfortable and at ease with the decisions she'd make now that would shape her life, preferably for the better, not to shut her up and tell her what she is and is not allowed to do. These need to be her decisions, not yours. Yet you-"_

"_It is you who wanted my presence here today, Dr. Weber. I am merely complying with your suggestion here. I am just participating and voicing my objections when I hear something ludicrous." Carlisle nearly hissed through gritted teeth. _

_The therapy session had devolved into a full blown battle of two formidable opponents staring each other down with Bella as the only spectator. There was no masking the sense of hostility the two projected towards one another. _

_Bella hadn't spoken a word since the session began, and she had little wish to contribute anything now. She considered pleading with them to stop, to not cross the lines of civility, but only for a moment. She was grateful that Dr. Weber wanted to help her, but she would not stick her head out or get in the way when her husband was so clearly on the war path. She was all too familiar with being on the receiving end of his wrath, but only rarely had she seen him be so openly antagonistic to an outsider. _

_It was Dr. Weber who stepped down from the stalemate first._

"I think it's best if we end our session a little early today. We are both somewhat out of our normal state of mind. I apologize for allowing my personal views guide my actions.

"Bella, I am truly sorry about the way things turned out today. We have upset you and I apologize for that.

"I suggest we take a step back and think carefully through what we really feel and mean to say without letting anything external influence our mood before we reconvene. Is that acceptable to you, Mr. Cullen?"

Carlisle knew he had overreacted and made a mess out of his interactions with Dr. Weber. He was always in a foul mood when it came to matters that had anything to do his wife, but something about the doctor set him off even further the moment he walked into the room.

He detected a cleverly hidden challenge in Dr. Weber's demeanor; he recognized the same mask of impassivity on her face that he himself was so used to donning every time he was among people. He felt a quiet judgment exuding from her, and once the fuse of his temper was lit there was no stopping him.

He understood that Dr. Weber was being the bigger person here, but that didn't mean he was ready to apologize. So, he only nodded curtly, accepting the doctor's offer to ceasefire.

"Very well. I'll see you next Monday, Bella," Dr. Weber said as she began collecting her papers and notes.

"Mr. Cullen, would you be joining us again next time?"

"I'll have to check my calendar; I may be traveling overseas next week. I'll have to see."

"I'd be happy if you informed me beforehand. It would give us both the time to prepare and get used to the idea so we can avoid altercations like today."

"Fine, you'll be informed," he conceded.

"I'll be on my way then. However, given your busy schedule, I'm inclined to broaden the circle a little to include close friends to join our future sessions.

"_Bella, I would like you to start thinking about people outside your immediate family that you love and trust. Like-" She pulled out her notebook again and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. "Alice, for example. You told me a while back that you considered her your best friend but felt estranged from her since dropping out of college. I'd like you slowly begin the process of re-establishing your connection so you'd both be comfortable with the idea of her joining-"_

"Alice Brandon is not welcome in my house and under no circumstances is she to be part of my wife's treatment!" Carlisle broke the temporary truce with a roar. He was only just coming down from the peak of his anger, but the mention of Alice's name shot him right back up to the crest once more. He threw a venomous glance at Bella who cringed involuntarily under its heat.

_Bella recalled mentioning Alice to Dr. Weber because at the time it seemed quite harmless; Alice had no part in her life anymore and she only spoke of their shared childhood. She never anticipated that the therapist would pick the worst possible moment to whip it out. She had many concerns about today's session; she was anxious about inadvertently saying the wrong thing that might make her husband look bad. But she couldn't have guessed that she would end up in so much trouble without uttering a single word. _

"_I'm… I'm sorry," she said on reflex, then cringed again as she realized that she'd just compounded her mistake manifold; she'd spoken in a way that would arise suspicion to an outside observer. Carlisle's blazing gaze confirmed that much. She opened her mouth to retract her apology, but failed to form the words that would successfully minimize the damage she'd caused. Before she had time to contemplate her options, a dramatic battle sequence began to unfold between her husband and her therapist._

"_I'm gathering that there's been some altercation between Alice and you that I am not aware of?" Dr. Weber asked Carlisle. "Strange that Bella never mentioned it. Would you care to talk about it, get it out in the open so I have a better understanding of the situation?" _

"_No, I do not want to talk about it." Carlisle spat out every word, enunciating each one for emphasis. "In fact, I want to know the precise treatment plan you have cooked up for my wife, in detail, before she talks to you again. You will not be subjecting her to any more of your quarks until I am convinced that they measure up, which as far as I can see, they don't."_

"_My apologies, Mr. Cullen, but I will not be sharing anything with you. My interactions with Bella are protected by the law. I am not required to divulge anything to anyone unless I am made aware of a crime being perpetrated, or I have the express permission from my patient-"_

"_You have her express permission." Carlisle cut her off, volunteering Bella's consent with a seamless entitlement while throwing a lethal glance at his wife, daring her to defy him. Bella didn't hesitate to nod in agreement. _

_Dr. Weber, however, seemed to have been pushed beyond her limits, and she chose to engage in battle instead of taking the higher road like she did earlier. _

"_Consent acquired through coercion is not consent. I will not submit to your whims, Mr. Cullen. You may have hired me, but my responsibilities lie with Bella and Bella alone. What I have witnessed today is highly disturbing to say the least, and has validated a number of my concerns that I was hoping were just baseless conjectures. _

"_Not only are you terrorizing your wife, but you are effectively blocking every avenue of treatment that has a fair chance of helping her. And by doing so, you are simply confirming my theory that you played a significant role in causing many of her problems in the first place. In fact-"_

"_How _dare_ you!" His roar interrupted her mid-sentence. "How _dare_ you pin your ineptitude on me! I will destroy you, and you will never practice in any of the fifty states again. You are fired. Get out of my house. Now!"_

"_Your terror tactics may work on someone vulnerable like Bella, but you don't scare me, Mr. Cullen. Before you threaten my career, please be advised that I am required by law to report to the police if I am to suspect abuse, and quite honestly, I have some very well grounded reasons to suspect just that." Dr. Weber held her ground stubbornly and perhaps to her own detriment._

_Carlisle's beautiful face contorted in fury as he stood up to his full height and towered over the doctor. _

"_Do it. I would like to see you try. And then I would like to see you stand before the Ethics Committee and the judge for slander and defamation. Please Dr. Weber, do it. I will crush you and it will be a pleasure. Now leave," he ordered as he pointed her to the exit._

_Dr. Weber was torn between her obligation to her patient and not wanting to leave her in a place so clearly unsafe, and the knowledge that if she overstayed her welcome she would be physically removed from the property. Bella released her from the dilemma by silently pleading with her eyes for Dr. Weber to leave. But the elderly woman couldn't bring herself to walk away without a last attempt to spring her patient from this unlikely prison. _

"_Bella, I am leaving now. I am not in a position to force you into anything, but if you choose to come with me, I promise to take you to a safe place. I give you my word that no harm will come to you and I will help you-" Carlisle took a step towards her menacingly and stopped her in her track before she could finish._

"_You will not address my wife. You are no longer entrusted with her care. Leave now before you are physically removed." _

_The scene that played out before her eyes reminded Bella of an afternoon much like this one nearly three years ago. Only back then it was Alice who was trying to take her away from here. Alice had begged, yelled and finally tried to drag her by the arm to get her to leave. But they didn't even make it out the door before her husband intercepted them. Heated words were exchanged between him and Alice, much like today. In the end, Alice had to leave alone, never to be allowed back in this house again. Just like Dr. Weber would be leaving now. _

"_Very well, I'll go. Call me, Bella. I am only a phone call away." She gathered up her papers and files, and after a final sorrowful look at her former patient, she left the room, leaving her alone with her husband. _

_Bella braced herself for impact once the doctor's footsteps vanished in the distance. She knew talking to Dr. Weber about Alice was a mistake, but what was she to do? There were only so many things she could talk about whose constituent particles didn't lead up to the matters she was not to speak of. Fortunately, her husband showed amazing restraint despite his boiling rage and left the room after only smashing the decorative, crystal vases that adorned the mantle above the fireplace. The sparkling shards flew past her head while she curled up in the corner of the couch, grateful that he was aiming at the wall and not her. _

_~CBE~_

Mrs. Cope remained unusually silent while they shared supper that day. She faithfully came to collect Bella at meal time, but allowed her the space and quiet that she sensed her charge needed.

Right before Bella retreated back into her room, she stopped near the staircase and turned to Mrs. Cope and said, "Alice. My best friend's name is Alice."

**AN1: Story rec - ****Cracks in the Pavement by VampiresHaveLaws**

**Summary: Life is never perfect, the cracks always appear. "My Polaroid would show the face of a girl who has forgotten how to truly smile." Even the strongest of dreams can fail to become enough.**

**Beautiful portrayal of the demise of a love that once was. Absolutely brilliant.**

**AN2: Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Please read her story The Long Walk Home and The Healing Touch.**

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! She is awesome. Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique.**

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thank you Archana for being my 1000th reviewer. You don't know what it meant to me. If I could, I would give you a hug.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But reviews are like Christmas mornings!**

**Kindly review and let me know what you think. They have the power of turning me into a ballerina (in my head!) and do a perfect pointe. Do it just for that mental image, if for nothing else!**


	19. Chapter 19

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 15:

"Tell me everything, Carlisle. From the beginning. Don't shut me out. I am not stupid, but I need to hear it from you. What have they done to you?"

Carlisle was looking out the window, into the pitch-black, night sky. He took a deep breath and without taking his eyes away from the window, in a halting and unwilling voice, began to recount the tale of his woe, and the confession of his crimes.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

**Carlisle, November 2009**

The days immediately following the explosive encounter with Dr. Weber were not very kind on Carlisle. It brought to the forefront of his mind what he had known for some time but didn't want to acknowledge - he was losing control. Looking back at his own conduct and behavior during the meeting, he realized that he had practically confessed to being a manipulative, abusive asshole. How could he allow that to happen? He had always been so good at keeping his mask in place. He spent a lifetime perfecting it and it had not let him down until now.

He wondered if the clever woman had set things up just to achieve that goal; to make him act with irrational rage that would draw him out in the open and make him rant like the mad man that he was.

Over the past months, he had eavesdropped occasionally on the sessions his wife had with Dr. Weber. Not every single one of them, but just enough to get an idea of the general direction they were headed towards. Also, he was somewhat curious to hear his wife speak. Given the chance, would she tell the doctor what her life was really like? What he had done to her? It was the same sick fascination that prompted him to watch her with the telephone; _would she, or wouldn't she?_

As things turned out, she didn't. Yet, somehow the doctor had picked up on the signs and laid an ingenuous trap for him in the guise of 'exploring future treatment plans' for his wife. Stupidly, he had walked right into it.

He was angry at Dr. Weber and his wife, but more than anything he was angry at himself for letting such an amateurish ploy get the best of him. Now he would have to go to the trouble of making sure that the doctor didn't go to the police.

As soon as he returned to his office after the disastrous showdown with Dr. Weber, he had called in his Chief of Security, Frank Riley. He already had a file on the doctor from when he was screening for a therapist for his wife, but this time he needed to know more about the woman.

He had to pinpoint her weaknesses and gauge how strong an opponent she could possibly be. He instructed Riley to dig up everything possible on Angela Weber and her family. He had never stooped to blackmailing an enemy into silence before, but dire times called for dire measures. He authorized Riley to pull in the resources of his PR division, who had significant expertise in covert electronic surveillance.

He then called the office of Jenks and Cohen, LLP to gather up a legal team to form a pre-emptive line of defense should the matter escalate to that point. They managed to ease some of his immediate worries. In the hypothetical case where a psychiatrist or a therapist were to suspect domestic violence or abuse against a patient, he or she was _not_ legally obligated to report it to the law enforcement authorities. Apparently the good doctor had bluffed and succeeded in getting under his skin with her steely conviction.

However, she was free to act on her suspicion, even at the risk of violating the patient confidentiality clause, should she believe that she had sufficient evidence to substantiate her misgivings, and felt it was in the best interest of the patient.

Some senior members of the team discreetly tried to ask about the potential veracity of the hypothetical allegations: Was there any possibility that material evidence or eyewitnesses could turn up at the least opportune moment? How difficult would it be to punch holes in the credibility of the health professional in question?

Carlisle reflected back to the video feed his entire property was wired up to. There was absolutely no way to implicate him in using those in ways other than what they were meant for; to maintain surveillance and security. He had equally strong faith in his housekeeping staff. However, Mrs. Cope gave him a pause.

One of the junior attorneys suggested that scheduling an out of state vacation for the alleged victim could be a good strategy to throw the police off their trail. It wouldn't do away with the problem, but it would buy them enough time to form a rock solid defense case. Resources available to the police to follow up on reported abuse cases were seriously strained. If they couldn't get a hold of the victim or any witness right away, chances were it would be a while before they sent someone else to sniff around. Cold cases rarely received any attention.

Carlisle contemplated the suggestion. But he decided he didn't want to ship his wife over to her parents, and he didn't have the time or inclination to accompany her on a protracted world tour. And damn if he'd allow anyone to force him to retreat from his home base. He would have to find a way to make sure Dr. Weber never carried through with her threat. His best bet was to have Riley excavate all of the skeletons she had in her closet.

But when Frank Riley checked back with him at the end of the week, he was less than pleased with the findings of his report. Dr. Angela Weber had a squeaky clean past. Graduating at the top of her class from Yale, she had excelled in her chosen field of profession. She had an impeccable reputation and impressive success record when it came to her patients, which explained why she was so highly sought after by families in need; Carlisle included. Even the theories and approaches she posited in academic journals were well received and generally agreed upon by her peers.

She was forty-six and was married to a Benjamin Cheney; fifty-one. She'd retained her maiden name as many women in academia do. They had two children; a boy, fifteen, and a girl, twelve. They lived in an affluent suburb near Seattle. Both of her parents were deceased. She was a law abiding citizen who didn't even have a speeding ticket to her name.

The fruitlessness of Riley's mission caused him much aggravation. The only consolation he had at this point was that his surveillance team confirmed that she had not made any attempt to contact the authorities - yet.

Carlisle flipped through the pages in annoyance. Just before he was about to throw the folder away, he spotted something that could potentially be of some use. Benjamin Cheney, owner of a chain of restaurants in Seattle, appeared to be eyeball-deep in debt. He had taken out a huge loan last year to open two new outlets which were yet to turn a profit. Not only weren't they making him money, the two new restaurants were bleeding him dry. To compensate for that, Cheney had to take out an even bigger loan, putting up pretty much all of his earthly possessions as collateral.

Carlisle quickly checked the name of the bank that had Cheney by the balls. There were two: the first was a mid-size bank with branches only in Washington, and the second was a private investor, presumably a loan shark.

A cold smile broke through his face. He could work with this. He would buy Cheney's account from the loan shark, and if need be, he would buy the bank as well. This method had always been his preferred weapon of choice in eliminating opponents - buy out the ground on which they stood upon and watch as they stumble through space as the realization hit them that there was nothing underneath their feet.

He had learned over the years that very few things in life didn't come with a price tag, and fewer still were those that he couldn't afford. So when the occasion arose, he employed his near endless wealth to sway the course of events to favor his wishes and interests.

He never felt the need to apologize for it. After all, would someone fault a singer for making use of their voice to climb the ladder to stardom? Or a world class athlete for endorsing consumer products? They utilized the tools and skill-set they had to make their life unfold the way they wanted it. Wealth was his instrument, and he utilized it to the best of its capacity. It had seldom let him down.

Buying out opponents was his favorite tactic above all else. To witness the disbelief and shock in the unsuspecting faces when it dawned on them that they had been out-manoeuvred was quite priceless. It wasn't always as straight forward; sometimes he had to follow labyrinthine pathways of several secondary operations vaguely linked through dummy corporations. But the end result was always gratifying.

It wasn't like he had only ever used his riches to crush the innocent and the vulnerable. He had done it to help others as well. He recalled with a bitter sense of irony how he had bought the whole apartment complex that Elizabeth Masen used to live in to ensure the rent would always stay the same and she wouldn't have to move to a cheaper, less safe part of the city. He bought out full control of Ion One to make sure she would always have a steady source of income and employment.

Yes, his actions were guided by his own concern for his _brother_, but he didn't do it for any personal gain or adulation. In fact, Elizaeth Masen went to her grave without ever knowing the ways in which he had made her life easier; she never had the chance to thank him and he never expected one either.

The errant thought of his brother wiped away the small smile that graced his face moments earlier.

_Edward._

Carlisle wanted to give him everything, yet he chose to steal instead. Why? For a woman? Was she worth it?

He doubted that time would lessen the intensity of the betrayal, or heal the gaping schism left behind.

He loved Edward unconditionally and without reservation nearly all of his adult life; he practically raised him like a father would. He could recall his first steps, first words and first day at preschool.

_How could he do this to me? How could he throw it all away? Did I mean nothing to him? _

Carlisle pushed away the painful thoughts to focus on the task at hand.

He would have to move fast. He called Riley to dole out new instructions. This time he wanted everything there was to know about the bank and the loan shark Benjamin Cheney was indebted to, and he wanted that information a.s.a.p. Purchases of this scale would take time; time he didn't have much of. At least he didn't expect much delay in appropriating the lending books from the private investor.

He wasn't particularly relishing the prospect of actually having the conversation with Dr. Weber whereby he would have to reveal the ace up his sleeve, but there weren't many alternatives available to him either.

As soon as he had worked out all the paperwork, he would have to confer with the doctor and inform her, in no uncertain terms, that going up against him would not only land her neck deep in a civil suit for slander, but she could likely be rendered homeless. His wife would never make a statement against him. In the end, would it be worth risking her career and livelihood, not to mention the future of her children, just on a hunch? After all, did she know _for sure_ that he had ever harmed his wife in any shape or form?

He could speculate with a high degree of certainty that her answer would be 'no'.

But he mustn't get ahead of himself. In order for that conversation to go the way he planned, first he would have to procure the strings that were attached to Benjamin Cheney's financial hide.

Over the next few hours, he made calls and dispatched orders to make sure that as soon as he had Riley's report he would be able to make his move to acquire the assets he had set his eyes on.

He was fairly engrossed in his work when he heard a knock on his door.

Eleazar.

Like always, he circumvented the standard protocol of announcing his visit ahead of time or making an appointment with Carlisle.

Things had been stressful between the two men ever since their shared flight to Europe when Carlisle had unburdened his soul to his uncle.

"Come in," he said.

As predicted, Eleazar entered his office with his usual cranky disposition. To Carlisle he seemed older; withered somehow. As if he had aged ten years in the last few weeks.

_Because of me. The burden of my confession did this to him._

"Carlisle, what's up with Riley? He just requisitioned twenty thousand in additional funds for equipment and surveillance. Is there a security breach that I don't know about? What's going on?"

Carlisle sighed. He knew it wouldn't be possible to keep it a secret from Eleazar and he wasn't even trying to. What would be the point anyway? Eleazar knew everything there was to know about him, and his wife.

Eleazar stepped closer to his desk and lowered his heavy form into one of the chairs across from his nephew, sweeping Carlisle's face with his keen and calculating eyes.

"What's going on? Would this have anything to do with Isabella?"

_Didn't it always these days?_

**AN1: Story rec - ****Plight Thee My Troth by Gingerandgreen**

**Summary: England, 1795. Lord Edward Masen and Miss Isabella Swan promise to love one another for all time; but will the harsh realities of life allow two souls from very different backgrounds to fulfil their vows? EPOV, AH**

**It's not easy writing a period piece; getting the tone and facts right is a challenge that few can overcome. But this one is beating the odds with flying colors. If you like historic stories, please give it a chance. **

**AN2: Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Please read her story The Long Walk Home and The Healing Touch.**

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! She is awesome. Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique.**

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

****Thanks BelleDean for helping me with the legal jibber-jabber. Her story Crash is one of the best out there. You should read it.****

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But reviews are like Thanksgiving dinner - they make you feel loved and fulfilled. Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians, by the way.**

**Kindly review and let me know what you think. They make me insanely happy! **


	20. Chapter 20

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 19:

Eleazar stepped closer to his desk and lowered his heavy form into one of the chairs across from his nephew, sweeping Carlisle's face with his keen and calculating eyes.

"What's going on? Would this have anything to do with Isabella?"

_Didn't it always these days?_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

**Carlisle, November 2009**

Carlisle didn't say anything but his silence answered the question loudly enough.

Eleazar released a heavy breath and levelled the younger man with a stern look.

"You have to listen to me, Carlisle. You have to let her go."

"No!" he thundered.

"Yes, you must," Eleazar refuted. "What you are doing to her is destroying you just as surely as it's destroying her. I _will not _let that happen.

"For your sake, son, I can't let that happen," he added more softly.

Carlisle looked away, recognizing the truth in Eleazar's words that even he couldn't deny.

"You have to stop this madness. Listen to me. I only have your best interests at heart. I always have and always will. The path you are on will eat you up until there's nothing left of your soul. Revenge won't bring you peace. You know that too; have you found any in the last three years?

"You haven't, because that's not where it can be found. Turn around while you still can. I will not let you throw everything away because someone hurt you. It's not worth it; _they _are not worth it," he pleaded.

"I can't," Carlisle responded while shaking his head.

"Yes, you can," Eleazar countered, flattening both his hands on top of the desk as he leaned in closer to press his point home.

They had been having different permutations of this conversation nearly every day since their fateful trip together. Eleazar would beg him to step away from the path of vengeance he was on, and Carlisle would express his inability to comply.

Looking at the elderly man, his only remaining ally in the world, as they sat in a deadlock over the unending battle of will, Carlisle reflected on the night he'd come clean to Eleazar on board of their Europe bound flight.

_~CBE~_

"_Oh, dear God. Carlisle, what have you done?" Eleazar said with a slight tremor in his voice._

_Carlisle honestly didn't know what he expected the end result to be of his confession, or how he hoped Eleazar to react, but the incredulity and disgust that poured through his question came as a shock too._

_He knew Eleazar to be a battle hardened man who had little appreciation for sentimentalities and romanticism. He understood business strategies and was proficient at the intricate art of multiplication of wealth. It was Eleazar who had groomed him since his adolescence to become the man he was today; he was someone Carlisle could always count on to give him the most pragmatic solution to a problem without getting bogged down by emotions and frills. Yet, here he sat, looking shaken and scared._

"_What have _I_ done? How can you ask me that? What about what they have done to me?"_

"_I know what they did to you is wrong. But Carlisle, they are nothing but children; you can't keep punishing them like this!"_

"_I can't believe you are taking their side. You never liked them; neither of them. You always told me how much you hated it that I would 'associate' with them. And now you are defending them? What the hell? I thought you'd understand... I thought you'd be on my side-"_

"_I am on your side! That's why I am telling you this. I'm... I don't have words for how sorry I am, son. Nothing excuses their actions; I agree. But what did you expect? She's so young; they both are. You don't have to forgive them, but you can't torment them for eternity either," Eleazar stated with conviction in his voice._

"_Too young? I'm supposed to forget everything simply because they are too young? That's bull shit-"_

"_You have to let her go before it's too late," Eleazar raised his voice and cut him off._

"_It doesn't matter what she did; you have to let her go," he continued. "For heaven's sake, just stop and think about what will happen if she dies. Can you live with that burden on your shoulders? This is not worth it; _she_ is not worth it._

"_And what of Edward, your brother? How long do you think you can keep him at bay with your anger? You raised that boy like a son. You can't cut him off from your life any more than I can cut you out of from mine." Eleazar paused for a moment to catch his breath._

"_Yes, I was always opposed to how... seemingly blind you were when it came to Edward. I had my reasons. You accepted him as your brother, as Kyle's son, without so much as a spec of evidence; you embraced him and his mother like a family. It all happened so fast. No, I didn't like it. Can you blame me? Eli was my sister; I didn't expect your dad to grieve forever but... I couldn't believe how easily Elizabeth Masen replaced her in his life. After Kyle died, I hoped you'd see things my way, but you bought into her hook, line and sinker._

"_Suddenly you had a whole new family. You'd do anything for them without giving any thought to how it may affect you. You were irrational when it came to them and I feared for you. My fears weren't baseless. You got hurt, remember? Not just now, but back then too, when she shut you out from her life?_

"_Yes, I admit, I had my reservations with regards to Edward. But it never mattered to you before-" He raised a hand to stop Carlisle from interrupting him when he saw him making a move to start speaking. "No, let me finish. I know my opinion didn't matter to you. Do you know why that is, Carlisle? Because you loved him, and when you love someone it doesn't matter what others think, or want, and it's not something you can turn off just by willing it. _

"_So what if I don't love Edward? You do. That's what should matter; that's _all _that should matter. No, I never liked Edward. At first I was convinced he was not Kyle's son, that you were being duped by his mother. But once he grew up I could see how much he resembled Kyle, and that bothered me even more. I couldn't deny the truth, but I couldn't accept him as your equal either, Carlisle. Edward didn't just look like Kyle, it was like he'd inherited your father's soul too._

"_It was hard for me to look at him and not hate him for having something that, in my mind, should have belonged to you. Yes, I resented him, and I still do for what he's done to you. But you have to stop, because my feelings for him don't matter one bit; yours do. You loved him, and I know you still do. That's why you are hurting the way you are. It's fine to vent your anger for a while, but when we hurt the ones we love, we hurt ourselves too. I'm afraid right now you are hurting yourself far more than you realize._

"_Besides, did you even give him the chance to explain? What did he have to say for himself? How can you be so sure that he is not dying of guilt as we speak? I know he is an immature brat, but he seemed to genuinely care about you too. He is your blood; your brother. You can cut him off from his trust fund or his credit cards, but you can't cut him out of your heart. I'm not asking you to forgive and forget the whole thing right this moment; I know you can't just brush it under the rug. But you have to speak to him; let him come home. For _your_ sake, not for his."_

_Carlisle's face was a mask of impassivity as he listened to Eleazar speak, but the fury brewing within him wasn't far beneath the surface._

"_Home? You want me to invite him back to my house? So he can fuck my wife with my blessing? So he can stab me in the chest as he had stabbed me in the back? No. That will _not_ happen. He can rot on the streets for all I care. The only mistake I made was not listening to you all those years ago. He will never be welcome to my home ever again. Never," Carlisle said through gritted teeth, his anger pouring out with each word._

"_Fine, don't. You are in pain and I can understand you are not yet ready to see what matters more. But you have to let Isabella go now. It can't wait. Everything you have been doing to her must stop this moment. I won't let you have her blood on your hands. As soon as we land, I want you to call Jenks and start the divorce proceedings and-"_

"_No!" Carlisle cut him off with a ferocity in his voice that he'd never displayed in front of Eleazar before. "She is mine. I will not let her go. She'll pay for what she did. After everything I did for her and her family, this is how she repays me? She... she deserves it. It's none of your business anyway what I do with my wife."_

"_It _is_ my business! _You_ are my business! If anything happens to that girl, if Heaven forbid she kills herself, how will you live with yourself? She is inconsequential, Carlisle; she is just a stupid, naive girl. She was never worthy of you, nor did she ever love you. Just let her go on her way. Wash your hands off and start from fresh. You can't carry this pain in your heart forever._

"_Can you honestly say you are surprised? She was barely an adult when you got involved with her. She hardly knew what she was getting herself into. I told -"_

"_Yes, I know you told me so and I didn't listen! Great time to rub my face in it, El. Thank you! So, it's all my fault then? It's my fault I saved her family from being thrown onto the streets? My fault for wanting to give her a better life? My fault that I trusted her, that I believed her when she said she loved me? _

"_Fine then, it was all my fault! So I guess I should just let her run into his arms and make a mockery of me for the world to see. That's what you want me to do, El? Huh? Just let her have it all? Give her half the kingdom and the prince too?" Carlisle interrupted him sarcastically._

"_So what if she does just that? What difference does it make? Would that be so bad? There are worse things in life than a bruised ego," Eleazar pointed out. "I am not trying to rub your face in it, but really Carlisle, what were you thinking? How could you be so blind and not see how unsuited she was for you from the get go? I am not just speaking of her age, though that should have been a deterrent enough, I am talking about how you could mistake her starry-eyed, idol-worshiping for love."_

"_She told me she loved me. I didn't force her in anyway. I asked her, El, and she looked me right in eyes and lied," Carlisle interjected, his voice uncharacteristically heavy with emotion._

"_She saw you as a hero and kissed the ground you walked on; that is not love. If it were, then I should have married Audrey Hepburn! There is a gulf of difference between love and reverence. Chances are, even she didn't know it at the time, but it was clear as day to anyone who had eyes to see, she revered you, but she never loved you._

"_You had her gratitude and you had her adulation, but you... you wanted more and you saw what you wanted to see. She would have done or said anything she thought you wanted to hear; you know that. She was like a puppy dying to please its master._

"_Don't get me wrong; I'm not defending her actions. But what you are doing to her is... it hurts me to say this, Carlisle, but what you are doing to her is atrocious and inhumane. You are Eli's son; your mother was the kindest, sweetest person I ever knew. How do you think she'd feel if she knew her only son is torturing his wife on a regular basis?_

"_Whatever her crimes might be, no matter how much she deserves it, you never hurt a girl. Kyle raised you better than that; I thought you knew better than that. How could you hold her parents' lives over her head? Have you considered what you'll use as leverage once they die? What will stop her from going to the police and suing you for everything you have to your name? That is _if _she outlives her parents._

"_Forget about what it will do to your reputation and everything you've worked so hard for all your life. Can't you see the way you are blighting your soul will stay with you long after this whole episode blows over? _

"_Yes, it will blow over. The only thing stopping you from moving on from this is you. You are not the first man in history whose wife cheated on him, and you won't be the last. But when that day comes, you will be weighed down by the knowledge of your... actions; everything you did, every time you... raised your hand against her will stay with you._

"_I want to protect you from that. That's all I want, Carlisle; for you to be able to live with yourself. So, I am begging you now, stop this madness. You can't start putting your life back together until you leave this mess behind. Cut her loose. Forget about the whole thing, and move forward._

"_Please, Carlisle. You have to listen to me. I only want what's best for you. Promise me you'll stop."_

_~CBE~_

Carlisle couldn't bring himself to make that promise to Eleazar that night. In his heart he knew the truth of the words Eleazar spoke. But he wasn't ready to concede defeat then, nor was he prepared to admit it now. He could have told Eleazar that he hadn't harmed a hair on Isabella's head in over six months, but that wouldn't have gone down too well in negating his sins that preceded her internment into the hospital.

Eleazar had hounded him relentlessly since that trip,going as far as to offer that Isabella stay at his house in Seattle until she was well enough to make her own way into the world unaided. Carlisle evaded him so far with his silence and stubborn refusal to commit.

Looking at Eleazar now, he knew he could no longer stall the inevitable. Eleazar wouldn't be pleased to learn about the unfortunate circumstances under which Carlisle had parted ways with Dr. Angela Weber. But in the possible battle that lay ahead, Carlisle would need all hands on board, and there was no one that he trusted and valued more than Eleazar.

He realized that his erratic behavior would be viewed by Eleazar as yet another reason for why Carlisle needed to cut all ties with his wife immediately and start his own journey towards healing and introspection.

_Maybe he is right_.

As the thought that he'd been trying to stave off finally sank in, he also realized that maybe it was time for him to finally lay down his arms and call for a truce.

A certain calm settled over him as he finally made that decision. Taking a deep, cleansing breath he looked up to meet his uncle's gaze.

"Something happened, El. I don't think you'll like it, but you need to know about it. I... I need your help."

**AN1: Story rec - Arrangement by QuantumFizzx **

**Summary: A hired-hand holds back her improper emotions, a son tries to honor an old arrangement, & a father makes new arrangements for reasons of his own. Maybe doing the noble thing isn't always the right thing...**

**This might be redundant rec as I am pretty sure you have already read this, but in case you haven't, I have a very strong feeling you will like it. It has romance, drama, comedy, angst, all blended in perfect measures.**

**AN2: Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Please read her story The Long Walk Home and The Healing Touch.**

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! However, she didn't get to do her magic this time. I was too distressed over this pesky writers' block that I didn't think I could deal with any suggested changes. The fault rests squarely on my shoulders, not hers. She is, and always will be, the pre-reader extraordinaire, even when I don't let her do any reading! Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique.**

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to Dooba, musicflare87, LPlover93, twilover76, **** lels2768, ****Vengefullover11, kare831, BookishQua, Sydney_Alice, GuardingKatmom, katinki01, shelikethesound, ****mamabean30,**** Dinx219,**** kare831,**** LadyTazz7, and mostlyalurker ****for WCs (whereby they wrote and I stared at the screen). You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**Special thanks to ****Dinx219 and LadyTazz7 for being the sweet and awesome people that they are. They held my hand and told me that I will be able to write again someday and made me believe it. Please check out their stories.**

**Dinx writes this amazing piece called Always Leads Back to you. **

**LadyTazz (****Jackson's Cupcake) ****is far too prolific to list her full contributions to the fic-verse here. She writes AWESOME lemons and has the similar kind of love for Carlisle as I do!**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But I hear reviews are like vaccines to writers' block, something I am afflicted with right now, sadly. So, kindly review and let me know what you think. Maybe you can cure me of this debilitating paralysis!**


	21. Chapter 21

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 20:

A certain calm settled over him as he finally made that decision. Taking a deep, cleansing breath he looked up to meet his uncle's gaze.

"Something happened, El. I don't think you'll like it, but you need to know about it. I... I need your help."

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

**Carlisle, November 2009**

Eleazar patiently listened as Carlisle told him about the explosive outcome of his 'therapy' session with Dr. Angela Weber. His brow became increasingly furrowed as the tale neared its end.

"She threatened to go to the police?" Eleazar asked.

"Yes... no, she said she could, or she might. Riley is keeping an eye on her; she hasn't contacted anyone yet," Carlisle replied.

"And it's been what... a week? A week and a half?"

"Near about," Carlisle confirmed.

"Hmn." Eleazar rested his elbows on the desk and tapped his fingers together as he contemplated the implications of what Carlisle had just recounted.

"She hasn't gone to the police yet. That's a good sign. If she was really serious about it she would have done it by now.

"You said you already warned her about a possible law suit?"

"Yes, I did. She knows she will not get out of it unscathed. Of course, I can't be sure how seriously she took my warning," Carlisle stated.

"I think she took it seriously enough, otherwise she would have done it already. But I don't know if I like having a loose cannon like her running around unchecked. You already have Riley on her case. What are you thinking?"

Carlisle briefed him quickly on his plans to get an iron hold on Benjamin Cheney's fate and thereby gain an upper hand over Angela Weber's decisions. Eleazar took it in thoughtfully.

"It could work but you need to move quickly. Have you made an offer yet to the bank? Or the other lender?" Eleazar asked.

"No, I just got the report from Riley today. I've done the preliminary work; I can make a move as soon as he has more on them."

"Hmn. What about making a pre-emptive strike? Who is heading the State Medical Board these days? Wasn't it Dr. Salvatore? He was at our annual ball this year. We could lodge a complaint against her for unprofessional conduct. Nip it in the bud so to speak. Get a gag order while we are at it too. What do you think?"

"I... I don't know if I want to go that far, unless I have to of course. I mean, that could ruin her career; it's her livelihood we are dealing with here." Carlisle was momentarily taken aback by his own words. He didn't think he was capable of caring about anyone else's plight but his own any more. Especially if he took into account what he was actually planning on doing to ensure the doctor's cooperation. At least no harm would come to her if she listened, he reasoned.

Eleazar observed Carlisle silently without making any comment, but it left Carlisle with a distinct feeling that he was holding something back.

"Ok, I see that you have thought it through and have a plan in place. What did you need my help with? Looks like you have a good handle on things all on your own," Eleazar said with a measured voice.

Carlisle was grateful for Eleazar's unquestioning support. He was quite concerned at first that his uncle would react badly or refuse to have any part of it altogether. He considered how Eleazar might take this as just another incident to add to the growing body of evidence that proved that Carlisle was losing his grip over reality. How it all came down to his wife, and how the only way to reset the broken clock of his life was to let her go.

He was ready for a fight, and expected a protracted nagging session before he could even tell Eleazar about his intentions, but the old man surprised him with his calm acceptance. While he appreciated the unwavering loyalty, it also made him slightly uncomfortable though he couldn't be sure why.

Indeed, why did he need Eleazar's help? He was more than capable of carrying out his plans on his own. He had this strategy perfected a long time ago and employed it on many occasions throughout his career. However, he did ask for Eleazar's help and he needed to explain his reasons.

It wasn't something he cared to admit, even to himself, but the resolve Carlisle once had about how justified and correct his actions were with regards to his wife had wavered in the past six months. The events of the last few weeks had only compounded his confusion. He had come to see how his chosen path had led him to be completely stranded in a dark and lonely place without any friends or allies. Perhaps it was this pressing fear of seclusion that prompted him to confide in Eleazar. It was this same fear that made him seek Eleazar's as an accomplice.

Carlisle realized now that pushing away his mentor was a bad mistake. After all, Eleazar was the faithful general who had gone to battle and won him victories, who had guided his hand when his feet were still shaky in his youth, and stood by him despite altercations and disagreements. He wanted to mend the bridges he had burned, and above all he needed a validation that his current actions weren't as terrible as what he had done already.

"I thought you could... it's just El, Angela Weber is..." he trailed off.

The thoughts plaguing him were particularly irksome. Dr. Weber was not like the numerous opponents and enemies he'd eliminated who'd stood in his way. She was indeed causing him a significant degree of worry however, and his self preservation dictated that he fortify himself against the danger she posed. But she was in the picture because _he _had put her there. It was he who had recruited her to help his wife. She was merely doing her job; protecting her charge from all the danger she perceived. The fact that she identified him as the causal proponent of his wife's problems only demonstrated her acute skills as a therapist. Threatening her into silence would mean he would be punishing her for excelling at her task.

He was not squeamish about crushing those he considered a threat to his existence, and Angela Weber definitely was a threat to his continued well-being, but he was struggling to lump her with all the casualties of war that lay to waste after one of his conquests.

Could it be that he was secretly hoping Eleazar would point that out and wag his finger at him for wanting to attack someone who didn't warrant such wrath? Did he expect Eleazar to oppose him? Try to talk him out of it perhaps? He seemed completely on board with his strategy, however. He wasn't sure why that left him with such a strange sense of disappointment.

"I don't know, El. I thought maybe we could brainstorm for ideas. Maybe you'd know a better way to approach it," Carlisle tried again.

Eleazar kept his gaze trained on the younger man, not letting even a shred of emotion pass through his eyes.

"No, I think your plan is solid. Have you spoken with Jenks? You should have a legal team ready just in case. But I don't think it will come to that; the doctor won't do anything stupid. She has far too much to lose." He paused. "Is that all you wanted to tell me, Carlisle?"

Carlisle didn't know what Eleazar was really asking him. _Is that all? _No, it wasn't but he didn't know how to voice what more he was hoping to hear from Eleazar. It hadn't failed his attention that Eleazar had not mentioned Isabella once, which was quite a feat in itself. It seemed every single conversation they had since their talk on board their Berlin bound flight always centred on her. Yet now that he had presented Eleazar with a prime example of reasons why he needed to cut his losses and allow his wife to leave him, Eleazar was strangely quiet.

Silence stretched between them for minutes that felt like hours to Carlisle. It was Eleazar who finally broke the stalemate.

"Carlisle, you know this already but maybe you need to hear it just the same, you are my biggest and only concern here. I have always done what I felt was best for you, and I will continue to do so as long as I have the strength. I'll protect you regardless of the circumstances; never doubt that.

"But tell me this, why are you hesitating to crush this woman? What's holding you back? What difference does it make that her career gets ruined?"

"Because..." Carlisle tried to explained but fell short of words. _Why indeed._

"I just... I see no reason to use excessive force when the same result can be achieved with less effort." He settled for the best logic he could think of.

"_Less_ effort? Buying out her husband's business as opposed to simply reporting her to the Board can hardly be termed as the 'less effort' in this context. But are you sure that's the only reason? Are you positive that it has nothing to do with you knowing in your heart that she doesn't deserve it? That, in all fairness, she was merely doing what you hired her to do?" Eleazar refuted sharply, pinning Carlisle under a knowing gaze.

Carlisle considered resorting to denial; to vehemently assert that he was not bound by such a naive worldview. But he saw the futility of it right away. He had nothing to prove to Eleazar; he was already privy to his deepest, darkest secrets. Eleazar knew him inside out, and chose to stand by his side in spite of it all. He truly had nothing to hide from him.

So he looked away and let the silence answer for him. He still couldn't bring himself to actually voice his conundrum. He had perpetrated atrocious acts of far graver magnitude. Next to that mountainous burden, splitting hairs over the wrongness of someone losing their job seemed trivial and ludicrous even to him.

Eleazar picked up the thread of their conversation once again and said, "The fact that it's giving you a pause tells me that it's not too late; you can still turn around. There's still something inside of you that's worth fighting for. I will help you, even if it means committing a felony." He held up his hand to stop Carlisle from interrupting. "Don't argue with me. Buying her silence by holding her family's future over her head _is _extortion, let's at least be honest with ourselves here. It is what it is, but it needs to be done, and I will help you.

"But I don't want you to be the one to approach her with this. _I_ will talk to her. That way there will be nothing connecting you to this, in case she chooses to disregard our... _request_. I could be acting on my own volition, to protect my own business interests. It will be perfectly plausible if it comes down to that."

Eleazar's offer to carry out his dirty errand shocked Carlisle to the core.

"No, I can't ask you to do that. It's my problem; this whole mess is my doing. I won't let you put yourself on the line like this. I can't allow that," Carlisle spoke with conviction. When he sought Eleazar's counsel he hoped for tacit support, maybe even a stern reminder of his failings, but he didn't expect him to take the lead of this questionable campaign.

"Tsk. Yes, you will. It is my decision. I'm old, Carlisle. What's the worst that can happen to me? You, on the other hand, still have a life to live; mistakes to atone for. And what about this business? Thousands depend on you for their bread and butter. I'm replaceable; you're not."

Carlisle was overcome with a sense of awe and gratitude. He knew he wasn't worthy of it. His heart clenched at the thought of the ways in which he had failed to appreciate the nearly invisible yet impenetrable shield that Eleazar's love and devotion provided him with throughout the years.

"I don't deserve it, El. You have done enough for me, and I thank you for everything. But I can't- _I won't_- let you do this." Carlisle still had his pride, and he wasn't a coward who would hide behind the safety of a plausible alibi while his only ally took the fall for him.

"It's my decision, Carlisle. However much I detest the idea, it's the only avenue we have that has the maximum chance of working. You can't afford to be implicated; the stakes are too high, too many lives are riding on your fate. I am the logical choice," Eleazar insisted in a determined voice that left little room for argument.

"I will do this for you, but I want something from you in return. Consider this a business proposition; I am taking a calculated risk for you, and I expect you to compensate me for my services," Eleazar added with the surefooted confidence that he usually reserved for brokering mergers or acquisitions.

Carlisle was ready to argue till the end of time, but Eleazar's last statement gave him an appropriate pause.

"Once this is taken care of, I want your word that you will file for divorce. You will get that girl out of your house. What you do after that is something we'll have to figure out once you get there. But for now that's all I am asking of you.

"Do we have a deal?"

Carlisle knew that sooner or later Eleazar would bring up his wife and his ever-ready argument to get him away from the toxic life he had been living. However, the way he worded his bid was unexpected just the same. It reminded him of his younger days when Eleazar would sit him down and deconstruct the entire known universe in terms of contracts and negotiations.

Eleazar; his mentor, guide and quite possibly his only friend, had made him an offer worded in a way they both understood; an offer that he couldn't -_ shouldn't _-refuse. But was he ready to surrender? Could he afford not to?

Almost as if he could hear the conflicting thoughts blazing in Carlisle's head, Eleazar pushed his case further, "You know it's time, son. It's enough already. Please. This is the wake-up call that you can't afford to ignore. The next one may not ring till it's too late."

Carlisle dropped his head and considered his uncle's warning one final time.

"Fine. We have a deal..."

Eleazar exhaled an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"Just so we understand each other clearly; I will handle all the negotiations with Angela Weber, and do everything within my power to make her see reason so she doesn't file a report with the police. In return, you will call a divorce attorney and start the proceedings as soon as this mess is dealt with. Are we in agreement with that?" Eleazar asked in plain terms. He didn't like ambiguity in business, not unless it left behind some kind of a desired loophole that he intended to utilize at a later date.

"Yes, I agree," Carlisle conceded.

"Great. It's a deal then. Let's get down to business. Show me what you have on the file."

And just like that his disposition changed to business as usual, as if it was an everyday occurrence for him to determine the most efficient way to bring down a medical practitioner by holding her family's future hostage.

By the end of the day they had a skeleton plan in place. It was decided when and how Eleazar would make contact with Dr. Weber and where Carlisle would be at the time. Despite the macabre nature of their project, it made Carlisle nostalgic of the times when he was still in business school and needed Eleazar's active supervision in putting together projects or strategizing for his next appearance before the Board.

In a way, it seemed to him like no time had passed at all since his Harvard days; days that were indelibly marked by memories that were directly responsible for bringing him to this point in life.

**AN1: Story rec - Glimmer Darkly by Rochelle Allison **

**Summary: She loses him almost as soon as she finds him... but things aren't always what they seem. Will Bella follow her heart down the rabbit hole? AU-ish.**

**Rochelle Allison is doing her magic with this unusual AU. Check it out.**

**AN2: Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. Please read her story The Long Walk Home and The Healing Touch.**

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! Don't miss out on her story Sinnerman. It's amazingly unique.**

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to ****opheliasmuse, Dinx219, ordinary_vamp, LadyTazz7, DoobaWrites, **  
><strong>DariaChenowith, AishaRotterdam, shelikethesound, and edwardsisobel <strong>  
><strong>for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.<strong>

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But reviews are like Treats on Halloween. So, kindly review and make my day. Happy Halloween! **


	22. Chapter 22

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 21:

In a way, it seemed to him like no time had passed at all since his Harvard days; days that were indelibly marked by memories that were directly responsible for bringing him to this point in life.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

**Carlisle, age 18-19**

On his way back from his visit with Elizabeth Masen, Carlisle pondered on his next course of action and how it would impact upon his future. He realized that, however unexpectedly, he had just acquired a new family. He had a baby brother now. The deep seated loneliness he felt in his heart ever since his father's death seemed to ease substantially with the knowledge. He wasn't alone any more.

Of course he realized that he had Eleazar, but while his uncle's presence gave him a sense of security and strength, it left a lot of be desired when it came to providing him with the warmth and care a family could.

_Uncle El. He's not going to like this one bit._

He could anticipate Eleazar's disapproval. He would not be thrilled that he went to meet Elizabeth Masen without proper representation; he would be even less thrilled when he learned about Carlisle's decision regarding Edward.

Carlisle didn't know how to break the news to Eleazar. Eleazar visited him in person as often as work allowed, but their primary mode of communication had been the video conference system Eleazar had insisted on installing at his house in Cambridge. They conferred once a week on Fridays when Carlisle would report on his academic progress and Eleazar would bring him abreast on what was going on at the headquarters.

Carlisle was mildly relieved that their next meeting wasn't due until the end of the week, but he knew he was only postponing the inevitable. Sooner or later he would have to inform Eleazar about his unscheduled meeting with Elizabeth. He didn't relish the prospect and decided to delay it as long as possible.

The pressure of exams and term papers kept Carlisle busy for the duration of the week, and when he finally spoke with Eleazar he managed to keep their conversation limited to course work and how many 'final clubs' had invited him to join at the end of the 'punch season'. Given the long and illustrious history of the Cullen men who were Harvard alums, the warm welcome he had received on campus was not surprising. That, combined with his impeccable good looks and an ingrained sense of aloofness that exuded superiority, made him very attractive to many of the elite clubs.

Eleazar, a Harvard man himself, was sufficiently gratified to hear about the Fox and the Phoenix club invites, but vetoed against the Porcellian club. They casually discussed the pros and cons of each which thankfully ate up enough of their time to delve into any real work. Eleazar ended their meeting with a quick reminder that while it was ok to have fun in college, Carlisle must know the boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, and most importantly, when it came to a girl, no meant no.

Carlisle rolled his eyes like he always did, and agreed to abide by the moral code like he had done numerous times before.

"And Carlisle, get a haircut," were his parting words, which made Carlisle guiltily reach for the back of his head where the hair was just about to grow past his neck line. He didn't particularly fancy a mullet, but now that he was in college he felt a certain nagging pressure to conform. All of the boys on campus seemed to be sporting one.

He had hoped his juvenile attempt to grow out his hair would go unnoticed by his guardian, but little escaped Eleazar's keen eyes. Carlisle understood and even accepted the argument that he didn't have to follow the pop-trend to grow up into a well adjusted adult - he was meant for bigger and better things - but on occasion he did have the errant thought that made him wish he could blend in and be one with the crowd.

He sighed in relief once they disconnected the video feed. He was grateful that he wouldn't have to deal with this for another week, and hoped that he would be better prepared to broach the subject next time he spoke with his uncle. He also wanted to spend more time with Edward and his mother so his judgement on the matter would not appear to be propped on an inane and flimsy evidence-base.

Furthermore, he was eager to see his baby brother again. As an only child he was lonely even when his mother was in good health, and they were a perfectly happy family. Apart from Eleazar, he didn't have a large extended clan of kin to spoil him or keep him company. His grandparents from his father's side were deceased long before he was born, and his maternal grandparents wanted nothing to do with him since they opposed their daughter's marriage to a boy who wasn't one of the 'chosen' people. Eleazar was the sole exception who went against the wish of his parents in order to watch over his sister, lest she ever came to regret her decision of settling for the _goy_ and needed a safe place to turn to – she didn't.

Carlisle cherished the time he had with his father, even when Kyle was too distraught to be the anchor his son needed. It took months after his mother's death before his father could even look at his face, let alone console him for his loss. The tenuous emotional connection they shared, however inadequate, sustained him through his childhood and adolescence, but he grew up with an undefined longing in his heart that he didn't know how to fill. Until now.

While holding Edward in his arms he realized what he was missing. He missed being connected to another human being like he was to his father and his mother. He missed a bond of blood that would tie him to someone irrevocably. He missed being part of a family, not just the cut and dry brand of supervision he received from his uncle, but one that involved an emotional touch that was sadly lacking in his life.

With this aim in mind, he called Elizabeth Masen the next day, a week after his first encounter with her. She had given him permission to come and visit with Edward and he was going to take her up on that. However, he wasn't about to show up unannounced once again. He didn't want to seem rude. He recalled how he had insulted Elizabeth's integrity with his suspicions and tactless demeanor. Whether or not he completely trusted her yet, the fact remained that she was Edward's mother and could easily refuse him the courtesy to visit or be in his life if she chose to do so.

Elizabeth seemed sufficiently surprised to hear from him but invited him over that afternoon with genuine warmth. It occurred to Carlisle when he was on his way to Elizabeth's place that he ought to bring a gift for Edward. Wasn't that what one did when they visited a child? However, as he approached one of the large malls in the city he was hit by the realization that he had absolutely no idea what would constitute an appropriate gift for an infant.

He sat in his car, dumbfounded for several minutes before he conceded defeat and decided to call the personal shopper Eleazar had put on a retainer to keep him acceptably clothed.

Morgan Kean, who usually did his shopping for him, was taken aback when Carlisle told him what he needed his help with. However, he bounced back quickly enough and asked all the pertinent questions about the said infant:

_How old is the child? Is it a boy or a girl? Have the parents registered a wish list at any of the stores?_

Carlisle told him what he knew; it's a boy who was about six months old. The wish list was irrelevant since this was meant to be a spontaneous gift. Morgan offered to have something appropriate picked out and delivered to his house that evening, but Carlisle didn't want to waste the day waiting. Instead, he asked Morgan for suggestions as to where he could go to make a purchase himself.

Armed with the name and address of three top stores that exclusively catered to all baby-related things, Carlisle headed off towards the nearest one. However, he regretted refusing Morgan's help as soon as he walked into the store. He felt completely out of place and clueless, which he was in every way imaginable. To top it all, he still had no idea what he should get for his brother.

He had a fairly good idea of how lost and uncertain he looked, and he didn't want to prolong the time whereby he'd be perceived that way by spectators. He squared his shoulders and put on the best 'I own you' face he had been practicing as he approached a sales lady.

Once it became apparent to the sales person that the pretty, young boy, in spite of his age and lack of knowledge on infants, came with a very deep pocket, she poured her heart into the transaction. She successfully convinced him that in the absence of any personal knowledge about the need and restrictions of the baby in question, the best way to go would be to allow the parents to make that decision. Carlisle couldn't fault her logic. Twenty minutes later he exited the store with a nicely wrapped box that held a snugly, koala bear with a gift certificate tucked away in its front pocket. He was fairly pleased with his purchase; he'd bought at least a year's supply of baby products for his brother.

When he arrived at Elizabeth's apartment, he noticed that the buzzer had been fixed and he could no longer simply walk inside the building. He deemed it to be a good thing, since it indicated a safe environment for Edward.

Elizabeth greeted him with a warm smile at the door.

"Hey! Come in, please. Here, let me take your coat," she said as she put away his winter jacket. "Go right in. Edward is in the living room."

Carlisle noticed that the sparse room looked neater than what he remembered from his last visit. Elizabeth had cleaned up her modest space in lieu of receiving a guest. It made him feel slightly guilty for putting her out the way he did last week when he dropped by unannounced.

He found Edward strapped to a car seat that was placed on the coffee table. He thought it was immensely curious that a car safety seat could be used indoors in this manner, but then he essentially knew nothing about child rearing.

Edward appeared to be alert and pleased with his general surroundings. He cackled a guileless laughter when he noticed the newcomer approach which seemed to have the predictable effect of melting Carlisle's young heart.

"Hey there, buddy. How are you doing today?" Carlisle knelt down before the car seat that kept Edward from rolling over and smiled at him to establish a channel of communication. Whether Edward understood the question or not, he answered by flapping his limbs with enthusiasm, all four of them, and chortled loudly.

It was in that instance, though Carlisle was hardly aware of it himself, the mask that he'd been taught to don to keep people at arm's length was stripped away completely. Even if he were to know the vulnerability he was embracing by allowing this tiny human being to disarm him so thoroughly, he probably wouldn't have cared.

"Aww! Look, he's so happy to see you," Carlisle heard Elizabeth say as she followed him into the room. She smiled and took a seat near her son. "What's this?" she asked, motioning to the colorful box that Carlisle had set down next to Edward when he entered the room.

"It's just something I picked up for him. I didn't know what would be... useful, so..." he said as he handed the box to Elizabeth.

"It's just a store card. They said you can pick out whatever you need," he added as Elizabeth unwrapped the gift and pulled out the stuffed toy from inside.

"Oh, it's lovely! That's so very thoughtful of you. You didn't have to bring anything, but thank you. Edward could really use some new clothes; they outgrow things so fast," she said with a warm smile and genuine appreciation. "But I have a feeling he'll prefer the bear over the card."

When she noticed the name of the store after taking the card out of the toy, she shook her head in amusement. "Oh, you Cullens, of course you have to go all fancy. You realize you could have just gone to Walmart, right? How much did you put on this thing anyway?" she asked.

"Uh... not much. The lady at the store did some calculations. I went with what she suggested. She said you should be able to get everything you need there," Carlisle explained.

"I'm sure I will. This is perfect; it's very sweet of you," Elizabeth said with a smile.

She placed the stuffed toy in Edward's small hands and he took to the soft, new object with great ardor, wasting no time before he began sucking on its nose. "See, told you he'd prefer the bear!" She laughed as she tried to pry it out of his mouth.

"Could I get you something to drink? Coffee, or tea perhaps? I baked a batch of cookies this morning. You are welcome to try some," she offered.

Unlike last time, Carlisle accepted the hospitality with gratitude, "That would be wonderful, thank you."

"Great, I will be right over in the kitchen there," she said as she stood up. "Would you be ok sitting here with Edward for a bit?"

"Sure, we'll be fine. No worries."

"It will only take a minute, but just holler if you need me for anything, ok?"

She left the room to fetch the drinks and cookies. Surprisingly Carlisle wasn't instantly riddled with panic to be left alone with Edward like he was the first time. He had this odd sense of certainty that, if need be, he would be able to take care of Edward, even though his experience or knowledge on baby-rearing hadn't increased in any way in the past week.

Carlisle spent the afternoon and much of the evening chatting away with Elizabeth over coffee and cookies. She asked him about college and his future plans, and he inquired about her work and Edward. As if following an unspoken rule, neither mentioned Kyle. His absence was felt by both in their own different ways but this didn't seem to be the right time to confide in the other or voice their pain.

They both learned new things about each other as they played with and entertained the easily amused baby, but what Carlisle valued the most were the fascinating tidbits of information he gathered about Edward.

He found out that his brother's full name was Edward Anthony Masen, and that he was named after Elizabeth's first foster father. Someone she'd been very close to but had to move away from when he became too old and infirm to look after an eleven year old girl. She didn't elaborate on the genesis of 'Anthony'; she didn't have to. It was Kyle's middle name.

He learned that even though Edward was a finicky eater, he had a penchant for putting any non-edibles he could grab with his tiny hands in his mouth and then proceeding on to chew on them, proudly using the lone tooth that he had only recently sprung. Nothing seemed to be beneath his voracious curiosity; including his own fingers and toes, the stuffed toy he'd been given that day, and even Carlisle's ear when he got an easy access to it.

He discovered that despite his age and size, Edward had a surprisingly strong grasp which, given the opportunity, he frequently employed to get a deadly hold over the hair of unsuspecting adults. Carlisle learned this the hard way when Edward got his iron grip on the rudimentary mullet that he had been grooming. It took an active intervention from Elizabeth to coax Edward into letting go of his poor victim's hair. Embarrassed and slightly put off for being bested by an infant, Carlisle grudgingly decided to get the haircut Eleazar had insisted on earlier. Small babies and long hair clearly didn't go well together.

He also ascertained that Edward had very little compunction about damaging personal effects and private property. He slobbered without shame and wasn't in the slightest bit apologetic for leaving a large drool-stain on Carlisle's expensive, Armani shirt. Elizabeth, of course, apologized profusely and even offered to pay for the dry cleaning, but strangely enough the challenges and hardship that came with being around Edward didn't deter him in the least.

Carlisle didn't even notice the passage of time. It was only when Elizabeth mentioned that she ought to start preparing supper and asked if Carlisle would like to stay for the meal or not that he realized that it was time for him to take his leave.

As he hastily gathered up his few belongings to return to his house on the other side of Charles river, Carlisle realized that he was sad to leave the cozy and disarming refuge of Elizabeth's home. He took a last glance at the sleeping form of Edward who had fallen into a nap after all the excitement of impressing upon a new human being. He wished he didn't have to go.

As he stood by the door and bade his host goodbye, he decided to ensure his smooth return before he lost the nerve to ask. "Thank you for having me over today. It was really great to spend some time with Edward; he's a great kid."

"Thanks, I'm glad you could come. Edward's very fond of you too. And thank you for the gift card, you really shouldn't have, but you definitely made his day with the bear," Elizabeth replied with her customary kind voice.

"Would it be ok if... I mean unless you already have plans, would it be ok if I came by next Saturday to check on him?" Carlisle asked with hopeful hesitance.

"No, we don't have any plans. I usually just catch up on housework on the weekends. If you don't mind me doing laundry and cleaning, you are very welcome to drop by. I'm sure Edward would love the attention.

"But don't you have plans for the weekend? College is supposed to be the time of your life. I'd guess you have something far more entertaining to do than babysit," Elizabeth pointed out.

"Actually, I don't. It's really the crunch time in school; I barely have time for anything other than term papers. But I could certainly use a break by the weekend. I really had a wonderful time today. I wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Edward while you work," Carlisle insisted.

"Very well then. I'll see you next week. Drive safely."

With that, she closed the door to go back and check on her son.

Carlisle drove back to his big and lonely house in Cambridge. Even after spending nearly half a day in her company he still didn't know whether Elizabeth was a friend or a foe. She appeared very amiable; sweet and kind, but he knew that the question was made redundant because she was the guardian who was entrusted with his brother. It mattered little if she was after his money - though she claimed not to be - because he would do anything to ensure Edward grew up with the same privileges and comfort he did. It was his responsibility now to fulfil the duties his father couldn't.

The only obstacle that remained in his path was to convince Eleazar. He went to bed that night thinking of ways to safely spring the news to his uncle. He wondered how Eleazar would react when he found out that after all the preparation and sharpening up legal strategies, he had waved the white flag even before the battle could begin.

**AN1: Story rec - The Learning Curve by Amethyst Jackson **  
><strong>If you read Bonne Foi or Madman's Mercy, you know AJ rocks! This drabble is no exception.<strong>

**AN2: Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. I couldn't do it without her. **

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! **

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to ****Dinx219, ordinary_vamp, LadyTazz7, DoobaWrites, AishaRotterdam, and shelikethesound ****for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But reviews are like pay day. So, kindly review and make me rich, even if it is for a day!**


	23. Chapter 23

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 22:

The only obstacle remained in his path was to convince Eleazar. We went to bed that night thinking of ways to safely spring the news to his uncle. He wondered how Eleazar would react when he found out that after all the preparation and sharpening up legal strategies, he had waved the white flag even before the battle could begin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23<strong>

**Carlisle, age 18**

The week flew by in the usual hubbub of classes, term papers and exam preparations. When the weekend rolled in, Carlisle knew that it was time he took the bull by its horn and manned up. He didn't want to disappoint Eleazar, but he couldn't back away from what he felt in his heart to be the right thing. He would fight with his uncle if need be. However, he really hoped he wouldn't have to.

Eleazar's call came in right on time like it always did. Carlisle squared his shoulders and began their video conference with their customary official note. If Eleazar noticed Carlisle's now neatly-trimmed hair, he didn't make any comment to express his endorsement. He reserved his praises and approval for only those occasions when Carlisle excelled at his tasks beyond expectations; what would be the point of patting the boy on his back for doing something he was supposed to do anyway?

Their conversation followed the usual route. Carlisle reported on how his studies were going, and Eleazar listened with minute attention. Grades weren't important, but it was crucial that he was really learning the nuts and bolts of the trade. Also, this was a prime time for him to meet and befriend the right people who might open up new avenues to expand his business into somewhere down the line. Membership to the clubs and fraternities wasn't only for youthful amusement. The children of some of America's richest were sent to Harvard; the golden networking opportunity it presented to Carlisle was not to be squandered.

Once Carlisle was finished, Eleazar began to brief him on the developments on the home front. It was part of his teaching method to familiarize Carlisle with the Board members: their faces, length of their tenure with the company, and their predilections to side with Kyle when divisive issues had confronted them in the past. Nothing was too small to overlook. In fact, these were all valuable lessons that Eleazar felt Carlisle needed to learn by heart before he could assume the helm of his destiny. Whether it would be on his twenty-first birthday, or after he had finished with his education, depended on how well he performed on the little tests Eleazar threw his way during their talks.

The fact that someday Carlisle would ascend to the Cullen throne was never in question. However, he always thought that he would have plenty of time to prepare for it. The thought of dictating policy and asserting authority over employees who were many years his senior was daunting. Thankfully, he had inherited two trusted allies to stand by him through the transition: he had Eleazar to be his comrade in arms in the battlefield of business, and he had Carmen to be his eyes and ears in the office. He knew he would be well fortified when the time came, and he was thankful for their loyalty.

Eleazar religiously faxed every single set of minutes and transcriptions of the company's business meetings to Carlisle throughout the week, and he expected the boy to read and analyze them by the time they conferred on Friday. After verbally bringing him up to date on the most recent matters at hand, he would ask Carlisle about the merits and demerits of the different opinions voiced by the members of the Board and heads of divisions, and invite him to defend the position he felt made the most sense.

Carlisle was increasingly getting better at this game with time. After all, Eleazar had been at it since he was barely out of seventh grade. However, unlike his father, Carlisle had a genuine interest in the inner workings of their business. As a child he was fascinated by the magical acronyms like 'SWOT' and 'CSR' tossed around casually when his uncle spoke. He was an eager pupil and didn't begrudge the inflated and rigid expectations that were placed upon his shoulders.

On this particular day, he felt he had performed above par. It wasn't always easy to decipher Eleazar's train of thought from his facial expressions, but Carlisle had learned to discern the minute unfurling of the otherwise perpetually furrowed brows and the occasional 'humph' as signs of approval.

"Very well then. Have a good weekend. Are you coming home for Thanksgiving, by the way? Or have you made plans elsewhere?" Eleazar asked.

"I'll be home; I don't have anything else to do here," Carlisle replied. It would be his first holiday as a true orphan. The thought depressed him but he didn't let himself dwell on the unavoidable.

"Excellent. I'll have Martha cook something up for us before she leaves. Let me know if you are planning on bringing a lady friend with you so I can give her a heads up. Martha doesn't like surprises." Eleazar cleverly used the ruse of his housekeeper to tease out the information on any budding romance that might be brewing in his nephew's life.

Carlisle didn't bite. "Nah, it will be just me."

"Before I let you go, remember that we are scheduled for a conference call with Jenks on Monday. Make sure you are back in the house by three," Eleazar said as he was about to disconnect their call.

Carlisle instantly went on the alert. This was it. There would be no more grace period to deal with the unpleasant.

_I can do this._

"About that, I've been meaning to discuss something with you. I think it's about time we disbanded Jenk's team. You see, Uncle El, I don't think we'll be needing their services after all." Carlisle tried to inject as much confidence in his voice as possible.

"Why would you say that? Has someone contacted you from _her _side?" Eleazar asked suspiciously.

"No... well, sort of. I met her; I met Elizabeth Masen the other day. And I think that maybe we were wrong to assume the worst. She is not-"

"What do you mean you 'met her'? When did this happen? Did she follow you to the campus? Please tell me you had someone from Jenk's Boston branch with you!" Eleazar interrupted him before he could finish his statement.

"Actually, it was more like a spur of the moment decision. I know I should have discussed this with you and the attorneys, but I was really getting tired of waiting. I mean, it's been over six months already. I just had to know what it was exactly that she wanted... I really just wanted to get it over with. So, I went to her place in Boston," Carlisle explained.

"_You _went to _her _place? Have you completely lost all of your senses? Why would you do something so stupid? Do you know how much leverage this gives her? And without your legal team to represent you? What were you thinking?" Eleazar's substantial presence exploded on the screen.

Carlisle kept his cool and continued to talk in what he hoped was a rational manner. "I realize that it was a potentially risky decision, but you should be pleased that the outcome was far better than what we'd been expecting. I think maybe we were too hasty in jumping to the conclusion that she was after my inheritance.

"El, I spoke to her. She told me herself that she doesn't want anything from me. She even-"

"She told you!" Eleazar repeated incredulously. "She told you? And her words are, what? The scripture? You believed her? I thought you were smarter than _that_!"

"Uncle El, just think. She had six months; six months to come after me, to send me her demands, sue me or whatever. But she didn't. And I saw her place. She doesn't live in the most ostentatious house, and doesn't even seem to have a lot of money. If she was going to do it, she would have already. I think there's enough reason to at least re-think our assumptions.

"I mean, maybe there was a reason why Dad trusted her-"

"Kyle 'trusted' her because she fooled him just like she has fooled you," Eleazar said, interrupting him once again. "She took advantage of his vulnerability, and now she is taking advantage of your naïveté. It's as simple as that. Just look at you- five minutes with her and you are already singing her praises. I can't believe you can be this easily fooled. I am telling you, Carlisle, you can't take her words at face value, no matter what she tells you. If she is pretending to be uninterested in money, then it only means she has her eyes set on a far more lucrative goal than a simple pay out. You can't trust a woman like _her_."

Carlisle was losing patience, but he knew raising his voice to Eleazar wouldn't accomplish anything. "I know what you are saying, and I understand your fears, but you have to trust me on this one. Give me some credit, I am not an idiot. I can tell when I am being lied to, and I'm fairly certain she is not lying."

Eleazar didn't offer his retort immediately. He did groom Carlisle well, and had to admit that his pupil was becoming greatly skilled at measuring up situations rapidly and strategizing to turn things to his advantage.

"So, you say that you believe that she is not interested in the Cullen fortunes?" Eleazar asked.

"Yes."

"Then she wouldn't mind giving it to us in writing, would she?"

Eleazar's shrewd question pointed to the weakest link of Carlisle's plan. Elizabeth Masen probably wouldn't refuse to provide an affidavit to the effect that she didn't intend to contest Kyle Cullen's will on behalf of her son or herself, but the notion of asking that of her shamed him somehow.

"Uh... I'm sure she would if we asked her to. But... I don't think..." He lowered his head for the first time since their meeting started. He was about to meander into the nebulous land of sentimentalities, something Eleazar held very little respect for. "I highly doubt that it's necessary. We'd only be provoking her and turn this into one of those self-fulfilling prophesies.

"I don't want to alienate her completely, if possible. After all, I have to consider that she is the mother of my... brother. I mean, quite possibly my brother. If that is the case then it would be wrong to start a feud with her over conjectures and speculations. I don't want him to grow up and learn that I disrespected his mother like that, or that I tried to cut him off from what should rightfully be his." Carlisle stated his argument in the most rational way he could articulate.

On the screen, Eleazar's face was a mask of impassivity. However, the slight clenching of his jaw, and the steely gaze of his eyes, told Carlisle that his argument was not well received.

"Your _brother_? That bastard is _not_ your brother. I get it now. Of course she is being a saint about shirking a settlement. Why settle for a few measly millions when she can get have half of the treasury? I gotta give it to her; she's got a good reach. And she nearly has you in her purse!

"Is that what she is vying for, Carlisle? Selling you your 'brother'? Well there's no way that bastard is a Cullen. Kyle would have told me. He would never have hidden something this big. And you are a fool if you believe her claim that Kyle is her baby's father. That is impossible!" Eleazar fumed as he spewed out the words.

Carlisle hated to hear Edward being characterized as a bastard, but it also made him think about something he had not pondered upon until now. At no point during the time he spent at the Masen household did Elizabeth categorically say that Kyle Cullen was, in fact, Edward's biological father. That was something Carlisle had construed all by himself. The closest she had come to connect Kyle to Edward was to say that she felt Kyle had "the right" to help her financially when she went on unpaid maternity leave.

He realized he had trodden further into the murky waters of emotional bog-land. Logic and reason were not on his side, and convincing Eleazar without either would be a formidable challenge. The truth that he _felt_ an unmistakable kinship with Edward would be too wishy-washy for Eleazar to accept.

"Regardless, I would prefer to side with caution so there is no bad blood between us in the future. After all, it's not like I have a bunch of siblings to spare. I don't want to be on bad terms with him, however things may play out." Carlisle stood his ground with resilience.

"You are making a big mistake here. You are allowing her to get to you and play with your weakness. She knows exactly what she is doing. She can sense your gullibility, and she will take you to the cleaners after dangling her son as the 'brother you always wish you had'. Quite honestly, from the look of it you are only too eager to oblige."

Eleazar's ominous warning did weaken Carlisle's conviction. Elizabeth Masen could very well be everything Eleazar suspected her to be - though his initial misgivings were somewhat assuaged after their two encounters - but the fact remained that she was Edward's mother; the only conduit through which he could be a part of his brother's life. Like it or not, she held a precious ace up her sleeve that he couldn't trump over, and he didn't want open animosity to breakout between them.

"Maybe you are right." Carlisle decided that a semblance of agreement with Eleazar would be met with the least amount of resistance. "But what if you are wrong? What if she _is _telling the truth? I can't risk having her as an enemy. That's not what Dad would want. He wouldn't want me to throw my brother in the gutter, even if his mother is of... questionable morals."

An agitated Eleazar considered Carlisle's contention. While the premise held water, he didn't think for a second that he could be wrong about Elizabeth. Only one kind of woman would agree to accept money from a man in return of keeping her liaison with him a secret; a kept woman. The fidelity or integrity of such harlots could not be relied upon. There was no telling how many men she had bedded at the same time as Kyle. The fact that she _had not_ yet come forward to claim a part of the Cullen fortunes on her son's behalf only solidified his deductions. It was quite simple really; _she would've if she could've_.

"Very well then. It should be easy enough to resolve. Jenks tells me they can do miracles in the labs these days. He has one of the best forensic labs in the country on retainer. A DNA test will tell us one way or the other. I'm sure she won't object to providing us with a little blood sample from her son," Eleazar suggested innocently.

"And compare it against what? Are you suggesting we dredge up the ocean floor to exhume Dad's body? That's preposterous!"

"No need for that. There are genetic markers that siblings should have in common. Jenks briefed us on this a while back. I see that you weren't paying attention. The test can be run to compare his DNA to yours, even _if _you only share one parent," Eleazar refuted him successfully.

Carlisle was truly cornered. He could imagine how well that conversation would go down with Elizabeth.

"Those tests are far from airtight. Also, I don't think she will respond well to this kind of demand," Carlisle hedged.

"Why not? It's not an unreasonable request. Of course we will bear all costs connected to the test. Why should she shirk from giving us a simple blood sample, unless she has something to hide?" Eleazar questioned triumphantly.

"Because... because I will be insulting her. Besides, why should she? She hasn't made any demands from us. Hell, she didn't even make any claims..." Carlisle paused to search for the right words. He needed to sound calm and he needed to appear reasonable.

"I can't put the burden of proof on her shoulders because the only thing I will achieve by doing so is to alienate her. It's negotiation 101, Uncle El. She is in possession of something that might be of great importance to me, but for all appearances, I don't have anything she might be interested in. Ergo, the burden is on me to keep her at the table, not drive her off with bullying and name calling. She holds all the cards, at least for now. I can't go about making random requests that I know will antagonise her." Carlisle stopped to look at his uncle's face, hoping he had made a reasonable case without sounding naive and callow.

Eleazar, however, was far from convinced. He could see the resolve in the sharp angles of Carlisle's defiant shoulders. He knew his nephew well enough to sense when he was prepping up to fight till the death. He wasn't ready to engage in such a battle with Carlisle over something as ambiguous as this.

"I can see you have made up your mind regardless of what I think. I believe you are making a big mistake, but I suppose some lessons in life need to be learned the hard way. I just hope you don't end up paying too high a price for this one.

"Just be careful, ok? Don't sign any papers or make any kind of verbal commitment where your inheritance is concerned; not without consulting me. Can we agree on that at least?" Eleazar grudgingly conceded defeat.

"Of course, El. I won't do anything stupid. You don't have to worry about that. Just let Jenks know we won't be needing a battle-ready team 24/7."

Carlisle sighed a breath of relief as the call came to an end. It was just as difficult as he had thought it would be, but it was good to have it out in the open, and he had managed to get Eleazar to back off. He knew it would be a while before his uncle truly accepted his decision, but he had time to show him that he didn't make a mistake.

With these optimistic thoughts in mind, he called Elizabeth the next day to plan his visit with Edward. However, his optimism was short lived.

He could detect that something was off in Elizabeth's voice as soon as she answered the phone. Brushing aside his trepidation, Carlisle clung on to the hope that nothing was wrong with Edward, or else she would be far more frantic. Whatever else it might be, there was little he wouldn't be able to handle. Or so he thought in his self assured hubris.

**AN1: Hmn, how do I say this? I am really curious about the drabble trend fic-world is so captivated with. So, after much feet dragging and nail chewing, I thought I'd try my hand at one. It will be more Edward and Bella centered... though what will life be without conflict, right? I would love for you to check it out when I start posting it, which should be within the next month or so. I humbly ask that you put me on author alert, 'cause your opinion would mean a lot to me. **

**AN2: Story rec - How to Paint a House by Maggie's Gutter**  
><strong>I'm not much for fluff, but this one is so amazingly sweet that even a hardcore angst-enthusiast like me had to concede defeat and join the bandwagon. Very likely you are already reading it. If not, please do. <strong>

**AN3: Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. **

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago!**

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to LadyTazz7, Dinx219, lulabelle98 for WCs. You ladies rock! They are all esteemed authors. Please check out their stories.**

**Lulabelle98 (A Healing Touch), Detochkina (Twilight 25 Prompt), and Dinx219 (Nirvana) are all nominated for the Short N Sweet award. Please go to their site and vote for these amazing ladies.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But reviews are like sunshine on a cold winter day. So, kindly review and give me a shot of much needed Vitamin D!**

***SWOT- Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats**  
><strong>*CSR - Corporate Social Responsibility.<strong>


	24. Chapter 24

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of Chapter 23:

He could detect that something was off about Elizabeth's voice as soon as she answered the phone. Brushing aside his trepidation, Carlisle clung on to the hope that nothing could be wrong with Edward, or else she would be far more frantic, and whatever else it might be, there's little he wouldn't be able to handle. Or so he thought in his self assured hubris.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24<strong>

**Carlisle, age 18**

"Hi. It's me, Carlisle," he said as soon as his call was answered.

"Oh, hello Carlisle." Her voice lacked the welcoming warmth that he had gotten used to in the short period of time that he had known her. He hoped everything was ok with his brother.

"I was just calling to see if I could drop by to check on Edward today. We made plans last week..."

"Right, uh... about that. I'm not sure if today would be any good for a visit. I'm planning on taking him out to the park. There aren't that many sunny days this time of the year. So..." She sounded reluctant and distant.

"Oh, I understand, of course." Carlisle failed to hide the disappointment from his voice. "Maybe tomorrow then?" he asked hopefully.

There was a momentary silence on the line.

"Actually, I'm not sure if that would be a good idea either..." She seemed hesitant. Carlisle could almost picture the scowl on her face as she spoke.

_She is avoiding me! But why?_

He hastily started analyzing his last visit. Could he have said or done something to offend her? She seemed perfectly comfortable about his proposed visit last Saturday. What could have happened between then and now to make her so reticent to him?

"I don't understand. I thought...why would it not be a good idea?" Carlisle asked point blank.

"Because..." she trailed off on an irate note, as if she was struggling to find the words that would adequately explain her lack of enthusiasm.

"You know what, I changed my mind. I would really appreciate if you could come by today. I think it's only fair that you hear me out. If you are still up for it, could you kindly meet me in... two hours? My place?" she offered curtly.

"Sure, but could you kindly tell me what's going on? You seem upset, apparently by me. But I can't think of any reason why that would be the case. I-"

"We'll talk about it when you get here. I can't stay on the phone for too long; Edward needs me." Elizabeth cut him off, sounding impatient.

"Ok, I'll be there," Carlisle conceded. "Edward is ok, right?" He had to ask before he let her go.

"Edward is fine. See you in _two _hours. Not sooner or later. Do you understand me?" she answered hastily, emphasizing the time before hanging up with a quick goodbye. This left Carlisle feeling perplexed and more than a little concerned about her sudden change in attitude.

He wondered why she made such a production of the appointed time; why couldn't he go there sooner? Or later for that matter.

He paced away some time until he couldn't take it anymore. He decided to drive over and wait in the car if need be, rather than going stark crazy speculating about Elizabeth Masen's strange behavior.

He stood before her apartment building. He still had three minutes on the clock. It was a sunny day, but the bitter cold hadn't loosened its grip over the November air. After wasting another minute rubbing his hands to stay warm, he decided to ring in his presence.

Elizabeth buzzed him in without a word.

She was waiting for him at her door, but didn't smile when he approached her. Her face held the heaviness of storm clouds and her eyes were puffy. If he had any doubts about her state of mind over the phone, he had none now; she was upset.

She motioned for him to enter without saying a word.

"Please, take a seat," she said when they reached the living room.

He noticed two things as he slowly sat down on the sofa: Elizabeth didn't offer to take his coat which might suggest that she didn't want him to stay too long, and that Edward was not in the apartment.

"Where's Edward?" He addressed the issue that mattered to him the most.

"He's at the park. I called a friend of mine to come by and take him out for a bit. I didn't want him around for this. I know he is only a baby, but he is very sensitive to emotions in the room. He picks up on things," she offered in explanation which didn't help to ease Carlisle's growing sense of panic.

"What's going on? I don't understand..." he asked, trying his best to keep his nervousness from showing.

Elizabeth was still standing. She walked over to the corner of the room to pick up what appeared to be her purse. She retrieved something from it and then slowly crossed the room to take the seat in front of Carlisle.

"Yesterday on my way back from work I stopped by the store to pick up some stuff for Edward. I thought I could use the gift card you gave him," she began as she placed the card on the table between them. "You didn't mention that you put the entire store on the card. Imagine my surprise when I went to the check-out counter."

"I still don't understand," Carlisle said in a perplexed voice.

"When people give gift certificates, they put a few hundred, maybe even a thousand dollars on it if they can afford it. Not a cent less than a hundred grand!" She raised her voice towards the end.

Carlisle realized that Elizabeth was not happy about the generosity of his gift card. He personally didn't think he had gone overboard with the amount. It did put a slight dent on his allowance, but nothing a little judicious spending for a while wouldn't fix. However, Elizabeth's reaction told him that perhaps he did cross some unwritten line in the sand. Even if he had, did it warrant all this drama?

"Listen, Elizabeth, I honestly had very little idea what you could use, so I asked the manager there and went with her suggestion. Her calculations looked pretty legitimate to me. I really didn't mean for it to come off as an insult. You could've just told me. I mean, I had no idea it would upset you so much. You don't have to use the card, you know." Carlisle shrugged to express his lack of culpability in the matter that had caused Elizabeth so much aggravation.

"That's what I thought; maybe you didn't know what to get and the salesman sold you the whole store. I thought that when you came by today I'd sit you down and tell you that a baby Edward's age doesn't really need a yacht or an entire store full of toys. I really thought...

"But then I got a call from Mr. Goldsmith last night." She stopped to gage Carlisle's reaction.

"He had some choice words for me. He accused me of... a number of things that I'd rather not repeat. Turns out you didn't clear your shopping spree at the store with your... _guardian_. And he is convinced I-" She stopped to collect herself as her lips trembled and her voice chocked. She surreptitiously brushed away a stray, angry tear.

"He believes I 'encouraged' you somehow to spend all that money on us. And it was rather difficult for me to deny the allegations when I actually had the fruit of the crime tucked away in my purse. So..." She pushed the card across the table towards Carlisle and looked away, unwilling to let Carlisle see her tears, yet unable to hold them back.

Carlisle sat dumbfounded.

Eleazar had called Elizabeth. Of course he would. Only Eleazar had complete access to, and control over, all his financial transactions. He had never asserted his presence in Carlisle's spending before, but after their conversation yesterday, of course he would look for every leak and hole in the Cullen security, and apply every trick in the book to seal them. That would include nipping the threat in the bud by intimidating Elizabeth Masen.

He was so shocked by the realization that it took a while before anger registered on the conscious part of his mind. He wanted to call his uncle and yell at him for jeopardizing the tenuous truce he was forming with Elizabeth Masen, and for meddling in his personal finances even though he was legally an adult now.

However, he realized damage control would have to take precedence over venting his anger. Thanks to Eleazar, he would now have to apologize to Elizabeth before she summarily exiled him from Edward's life.

"Elizabeth, I had no idea he was going to do something like that. I truly am sorry. He is _not _my guardian. He is my proxy at the company until I am twenty-one, but I don't need his permission to make decisions about my life; I am not a child. I will talk to Eleazar, and I promise you he will not bother you again. I apologize for the insinuations he made. They were uncalled for and I understand why you'd be upset... but please, you have to believe me, I had nothing to do with it," Carlisle said with genuine conviction.

Elizabeth kept still for a few moments. When she turned her gaze back to Carlisle, she was much more composed than she was previously.

"I believe you. I get it that he is just looking out for you, I can understand that. But make no mistake, Carlisle, I will _not _be disrespected in my own home. I am perfectly capable of raising my son on my own. I don't need any hand outs or charity. I don't want your money, and my son definitely doesn't need your approval... or acceptance. In fact, I did not ask for any of this. _You_ came into my home; _you_ wanted to know Edward, not the other way around.

"No, let me finish." She held up her hand to stop Carlisle from interrupting. "Edward is the most important thing in my life. I will not compromise his well-being at any cost. That means I will _not_ allow for him to grow up hearing filth about his mother, or being slighted for who... who he is and what he is not.

"I... I honestly was really happy that you seemed to care about him. I don't have any family to speak of, and I know it would mean a lot for him to have one, but I will not let him grow attached to you unless I feel that you understand where I stand.

"The things Mr. Goldsmith said... I know that's what you all think of me. I'm not stupid; I understand how things must look from the outside. You are welcome to believe what you want. But you can't bring your lewd suspicions into my son's life; I won't let you.

"I told you before and I will say it again; I don't need or want your money. Edward is _my _son. He is _not _a Cullen. He is _not_ your competition, nor is he your equal. I will not set him up with false hopes and promises. I will raise him the best way I can, within my means. If you want to be a part of his life then you will have to respect my wishes. I will not let you insult me again this way."

Carlisle quietly listened to Elizabeth's grievances and allowed the weight of her words to sink in. She was right; he had come to her with the worst of opinions, and even after getting to know her somewhat better, he continued to harbor much of his old doubts. He was angry at Eleazar for foiling his place in the game, not because he truly believed Elizabeth deserved better treatment. He indeed was guilty of affronting her dignity, and for that he now felt shame.

She had treated him with nothing but kindness from the very moment he had showed up at her doorstep, and even overlooked his initial hostility. However, he had failed to extend the same courtesy to her. He treated her with civility to keep the passage to his brother open, not out of heartfelt regard for who she was as a person.

He saw now that Edward didn't exist in a vacuum and he couldn't be selective about welcoming him, and only him, into his life. Edward was a part of Elizabeth Masen, just as he was a part of his parents. The two components could never be separated, and he decided that he would never again attempt to do so.

"I understand, Elizabeth. I apologize. I've been disrespectful with my words and actions. I give you my word it will never happen again. I am sorry for my uncle too. He is looking out for me, I know, but how he went about it was wrong. I promise you that he will be dealt with.

"I... I would be grateful if you'd still let me be a part of Edward's life. I would like that very much, but I... but I realize that it is your prerogative. And if you let me be here, I assure you that I will not give you any reason to regret your decision." Carlisle chose his words carefully. He had a new found respect for Elizabeth and he truly wanted to earn her acceptance, not demand it by force or intimidation.

Elizabeth didn't respond immediately. She gazed at him with uncertain eyes, as if trying to ascertain the depth of his pledge.

Carlisle waited for her verdict, but when she didn't speak for over a minute, disappointment seeped into his mind. He wouldn't be seeing Edward that day, and maybe never again.

"I should probably go," he said as he stood up with a downcast face. He picked up the gift card from the coffee table and gave it a dirty look as he pocketed it for later disposal.

He was about to cross the threshold when Elizabeth spoke. "If you like to, you could come to the park with me. They've been out for a while. I should bring him in."

Carlisle turned to look at Elizabeth, noticing that much of the hard edges were gone from her face.

"I'd like that very much, thank you," Carlisle said as he gave her a smile of gratitude. He understood that she was giving him a second chance that she wrestled with at length. It wasn't to be taken lightly and he had no intention of blowing it.

Elizabeth closed the door behind them and they walked to the nearby park in relative silence.

"There they are." Elizabeth spotted her friend soon enough and nudged Carlisle to guide him in the right direction.

Carlisle saw a woman close to Elizabeth's age sitting on a park bench with a stroller stationed next to her. When they were close enough he was much amused to notice how bundled up Edward appeared in all the winter gear his mother had placed him in. As was usually the case, Edward's mere sight relaxed Carlisle enough to make him break out into an unadulterated smile as he leaned down to take a better look.

Edward displayed his lone-tooth with customary enthusiasm as his gaze fell upon Carlisle, though the flaying of his limbs was significantly restricted by the confines of his swaddled wrap. He reminded Carlisle of an Egyptian mummy which made his smile grow even wider.

"Thank you so much, Gracie. I owe you one! I got it from here," Elizabeth addressed her friend as they approached her.

"No problem, Lizzie. Edward's a delight to be around. Besides, it's the least I could do after all the times you babysat for me. So, did you finish your errand?" Gracie replied as she curiously eyed the strange, young boy who had accompanied her friend.

"Yah, I did. Thanks to you." Elizabeth noticed her friend's inquisitive glance and contemplated ignoring it at first, but then changed her mind. Much of her life in the last few years had been shrouded in secrecy, something she felt was warranted at the time but later came to regret. She didn't want her old mistakes to taint her son's life. She decided in favor of a name-only introduction.

"Where are my manners! Carlisle, this is my friend and colleague, Grace Fowler..." She gestured towards her friend.

"It's nice to meet you," said Grace as they shook hands.

"Likewise," Carlisle responded politely. "I'm Carlisle, Carlisle Cullen. I'm Edward's brother."

Elizabeth suppressed a gasp as she looked at Carlisle's face. Carlisle nodded slightly in acknowledgement. It was not lost on either what a momentous declaration Carlisle had just made.

With a simple acknowledgement, he had irrevocably tied himself to Edward, not only in his heart, but in every aspect of life in the future to come. It was a bond that would grow in strength with time, and stubbornly refuse to budge even when he would try to shake it loose many years later as it would face and fail the ultimate crucible of loyalty.

**AN1: Story rec - **** The Lies We Tell Ourselves by ysar**  
><strong>I had no idea ysar wrote ExB stories. Imagine my surprise! This drabble fic is awesome and ansgty. Take a look!<strong>

**AN2: Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. She is all kind of awesome.**

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! Brilliant woman, that one.**

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to Dinx219 for WCs and for being the awesomest friend. You rock! Please check out her stories.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But reviews are like snowshoes in a snowstorm. So, kindly review so I don't fall on my face. The weather forecast is not looking too good up here!**


	25. Chapter 25

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 25<strong>

20th November, 2008

Volcanoes National Park, Rwanda

My dearest Bella,

I am really sorry I didn't get the chance to write sooner. It took much longer to get settled here than we initially thought it would.

Please see the photo I am attaching here. That's right! I took that picture! Me! I am excited like a twelve year old on Christmas day.

What you are seeing is a juvenile mountain gorilla, trying to inspect my gears and back pack. They tell me this particular guy hasn't been spotted in the area before. I named him George. You know, as in 'George of the Jungle'.

We are living in a camp near the forest, not terribly far from where Diane Fossey's cabin used to be. Gatsby made us all watch 'Gorillas in the Mist' as a crash course on all things gorilla. Have you seen the movie? (He also gave a thick folder to each of us, but I must confess that I haven't really read through the whole thing.)

Watch it if you ever get the chance. I never realized how little I knew about these magnificent creatures. I have been crawling around the wet forest floor for weeks now, only to catch a glimpse of one of these bad boys. It was all worth it.

The trick, I've been told, is to be able to stay very, very still and lay flat on the ground and look as non-threatening as possible. This is actually not as easy as it sounds; not when ants and bugs are crawling all over you. All the rain and mud doesn't help much either. I saw a whole brood last week, but I didn't have my camera with me. They weren't close enough for me to snap a proper shot of anyway.

I can't quite tell you how I felt when I first saw George. The first thing that came to my mind was that I wish you were with me to see it. There's something very special about these great apes. There's this look of quiet calmness in their eyes that suggests that they are very much aware that they are on borrowed time. All the pictures I have seen on TV, films and magazines could never convey the depth of the wisdom and patience that I can see on George's face. I don't know if I'll be able to do any better with my camera. Probably not. That is a tragedy.

There's no way to know for sure, but most conservationists estimate that there are probably only about six to eight hundred mountain gorillas left in the world, and I had the privilege to look one in the eye. Sorry I can't share my good fortune with you, but maybe the picture will make up for it a little bit.

Did you know that we share over 95% of our DNA with gorillas? Looking at George, I don't have an iota of doubt that we are related through a common bond of ancestry. I was half tempted to walk up to him and say, "Hey, Cuz! Long time no see." I think he just might surprise me with a sarcastic comeback like, "With you for family, who needs natural predators?" He'd be right. As a species, we don't make good neighbors, do we?

Gatsby got permission from two government departments (the ministries of Tourism _and_ Information and Communication Technology, in case you were curious) before leaving the states, but turns out he can't start shooting until he gets the permit from the Ministry of Environment as well. He fears some money might need to change hands to make that happen, but his budget clock is running, so he just might have to pay out rather than wait months for the 'proper channels' to work. So while he is sitting back in camp, ripping his hair out (whatever's left of it), the rest of the group are just wandering around, getting familiar with the area.

Kagame, our local life-line, took me to see Diane Fossey's grave the other day. What an amazing woman she was! Quirky and stubborn, but boy, was she passionate about her work. There are so many humanitarians and heroes we admire who fought, and sometimes died, for a cause. Mother Theresa, Mandela, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr.; they devoted their lives to save others, to give a voice to those who didn't have one, and we love them for that. We remember their birthdays and name roads and cities after them, but it takes a very special person to sacrifice their life for a group of creatures who, in all likelihood, would never love her back. They would never even know what she had done for them.

Diane Fossey lived and died for her gorillas. She was murdered for wanting to save these incredible animals, and was buried next to one of her beloved friends, Digit. Looking at her grave made me wonder what it must have been like for her to be fighting a losing battle relentlessly; to have such a great sense of purpose that prodded her on, day and night, to face ridicule and danger without fear.

I can't even fathom a life like that. Oh, how I envy her. I wish I knew what it was like to have such a purpose. I wish I had something that could ground me to a place like Digit anchored Fossey.

I am so lost, Bella. I don't belong anywhere and no one wants me. My existence doesn't serve any purpose. Maybe that's what I am meant to be; lost and hollow. Sometimes I can't help but wonder why I'm still alive.

I think I should stop now. I am sounding petulant and melodramatic. Sorry about rambling only about me. I will catch up about you next time, I promise.

Hope you are well and happy.

With all my love,

Edward

PS: Bella, on my way back to the camp I had a sudden epiphany. I realized that I do have a purpose. My purpose is you. Whether you know it or not, whether you want me to or not, I would readily give my life to keep you happy. Maybe me being here, so far away from what I once considered home, is just a way of me fulfilling that duty. That is enough of a purpose for me - even if it breaks me in a million ways.

~CBE~

He re-read the letter a few times when he was finished. His brows furrowed and he seemed displeased with what he saw. He came off looking far too needy and desperate, he felt; the exact thing he had hoped to prevent from seeping through his words.

Logically, he knew that it didn't really matter what he wrote. Bella would never read them; she would never know. Still, he couldn't help but feel as though he was failing her somehow. He felt a certain responsibility toward the Bella he nurtured in his heart, however imaginary she might be. She would be distressed at the knowledge of how her decision had been hurting him, then beat herself up with guilt. She was exceedingly good at shouldering blame.

He wanted to keep his letters light and cheerful with a few anecdotal trivia thrown in. Something Bella might find enjoyable to read; something that would show how well he was getting on with his life. He wasn't too happy with the first letter he wrote to her either. It was too honest and revealed too much of the bleak landscape his world had become. He considered tearing it up on more than one occasion, then decided against it as he tucked it away between the pages of his diary.

_What difference does it make? She won't know. And what she doesn't know can't hurt her._

He looked out of the netted, square window of his tiny living quarters and reveled in the darkness that lay beyond. He had learned to find comfort in the assorted chirping and rustling noises of the night. So very different from the silence of Forks and Cambridge, or the muted sounds of urban Boston.

Of course 'comfort' was a relative term. It did nothing to negate the sense of isolation he experienced day in and day out, nor did it ease the burden of guilt he carried on his shoulders. At least its hypnotic drone numbed his mind long enough to induce sleep.

He took one last look at the letter and then folded it carefully before placing it next to the first letter inside his diary. He would have to go to the nearest town to buy paper soon. And pens.

He made quick work of inspecting his equipment for bugs and moisture. The lenses tended to get fogged up overnight since the casing he had to stow away his Hasselblad wasn't sturdy enough for wildlife treks. He had to be careful about the said wildlife making its way inside the carrying case too.

The camera was the only material link he still carried with him that had it roots in his old life. The Hasselblad was a gift from his brother; a thoughtful replacement for the Canon that he had carelessly broken by dropping it on the floor too many times.

The fleeting thought of Carlisle wiped away the little serenity he had accrued that evening. His head lowered in shame, even though there wasn't anyone in the room to witness his gesture.

He had considered parting ways with the camera like everything else he had received from his brother, but chose to keep it with him instead. It served a purpose in more ways than one.

It was his tool of trade these days, though he couldn't care less about that aspect of his life. The deeper purpose the Hasselblad served was to remind him everyday of his transgressions.

_Lest I forget._

Every frame, every click and every printed image was a stark reminder that he once was loved. That he once had everything, and that he had squandered it all away in his catastrophic delusion of impunity.

How could he be so willfully blind? Did he really think he was so indispensable to his brother that there would be no repercussions for his greed? That there would be no limit to Carlisle's amity?

The memory of Carlisle's stone cold face flashed through his mind.

_You are _not _my brother. __You are the snake in the grass who fed off of my blood and then poisoned me in return. You are dead to me._

He blinked away the tears that the cutting words still triggered and busied himself with his pre-bedtime rituals to prevent the unwelcome thoughts from venturing back.

He made sure the frames he had picked to show Gatsby the next day were in the correct order. Then he climbed into his bed, being mindful that the canopy of the mosquito net covered all corners. Finally, he reached underneath the pillow to touch his diary that held his letters before closing his eyes.

_Goodnight, Bella._

**AN1: My apologies for the delay. I had a family emergency. **

**AN2: Come find me on twitter: ToTheDreaming.**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. She is all kind of awesome.**

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! Brilliant woman, that one.**

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful.**

**Thanks to ****Ninnie_89 ****and lulabelle98 for WCs. Thanks to Dinx219 for being the awesomest friend. You rock! Please check out their stories.**

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But reviews are like perfectly wrapped Christmas presents waiting for me under the tree. So, kindly review. I swear I've been good!**


	26. Chapter 26

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of ch 18

Mrs. Cope remained unusually silent while they shared supper that day. She faithfully came to collect Bella at meal time, but allowed her the space and quiet that she sensed her charge needed.

Right before Bella retreated back into her room, she stopped near the staircase and turned to Mrs. Cope and said, "Alice. My best friend's name is Alice."

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 26<strong>

**Bella, February 2010**

"Bella, wake up."

The gentle voice pulled her closer to consciousness. In her semi-alert state, Bella tried to make sense of the call. She didn't know how long she had been sleeping but it couldn't have been long enough. She froze, wondering if she should be alarmed, but then decided it wasn't warranted. She recognized the voice. Mrs. Cope; her constant companion. She didn't have to be afraid of her.

Bella opened her eyes with reluctance. The grey hue of the world outside the window told her it was far too early for her to wake up. Why was she being shaken awake at such an ungodly hour? She didn't have any task of value to perform; there wasn't anywhere she needed to be. A quick glance at the bedside clock showed thirty minutes past seven. It was just as she suspected, it was far too early.

"Wake up, sleepy head. Remember our plan? We are losing daylight, Bella. Take a shower and get ready. We will have brunch in the city today," Mrs. Cope reminded her with a cheerful voice.

Right. Bella recalled Mrs. Cope's grand plan to take her outside of the house. She had been talking about it for nearly a month now. Bella wasn't quite convinced that she agreed with her argument. She didn't share Mrs. Cope's enthusiasm, and didn't consent to the day-trip she had chalked out for them.

"Not today, please. Next week. I don't feel too good today and it's cold outside. Maybe in the spring," Bella hedged.

"Oh come on, girl. We talked about this. Aren't you sick and tired of my cooking already?" Mrs. Cope said as she moved closer to take a seat on the bed next to Bella. She continued on a more serious note, "We've talked about this. You can't stay in the house for the rest of your life. Sooner or later you will have to go out and be around people who may not know the challenges you face. They may offer you a drink without even realizing what it could do to you. You'll have to learn how to navigate through those situations. Also, you need to be able to pick out food on your own. You have reached a healthy weight, but eventually you'll need to learn to maintain it without my help. And this is the first step for that.

"Don't make me drag you out of bed now," she warned.

"I know, I know. It's just that... I'm not sure where my driver's license is... or my car keys. Next week, I promise." The trivial excuses, however true, sounded lame even to Bella's own ears.

"I am driving. And you have fourteen cars in your carport. And you have Rodney. I am sure he'd be more than happy to drive us around. Now please, get ready. I will meet you downstairs. I'm giving you thirty minutes. Don't make me come back to get you!" Mrs. Cope wagged a finger in mock threat and then left her alone to get ready.

It was February and the frigid winter was deterrent enough for Bella. But if she were being honest, she would have to admit that the weather or the whereabouts of her car keys had little to do with her reluctance to go out that day.

She hadn't been outside the Cullen mansion in nearly a year. Other than the occasional doctor's appointments in Port Angeles, she had been in near-perfect seclusion since her release from the hospital. She wondered why. It wasn't that her husband had forbidden her to leave the boundaries of the property. She could have easily gone out if she chose to do so, but she simply didn't.

Perhaps the fatigue she felt during the early months of her recovery could be blamed for her initial disinclination to venture out. But gradually her lethargy solidified into something far more crippling. She had essentially become her own keeper. She stayed within the walls of her prison, not because her husband forced her to, but because she didn't want to see what lay outside; who she once was, what her life could have been like.

With great reluctance, Bella pushed herself to get ready for their trek into town. She was familiar with Mrs. Cope's relentless nature by now. The old lady would not rest until she had accomplished her mission. At least it meant breakfast would be postponed until lunch time, which meant she probably would be let off the hook until dinner time.

_Small favors._

When she went down the stairs, Mrs. Cope was waiting for her.

"We will take my car. Rodney says he'll follow. Now let's go."

Mrs. Cope led her to the carport where her old Subaru was parked. Their two-car caravan left the Cullen estate and headed towards Port Angeles at a little past eight.

Mrs. Cope tried to engage her in chit chat as she drove, but the long months with Bella had taught her what a challenge it was to make the young woman open up. She didn't expect much in terms of a response, but she never stopped trying just the same.

"So, Bella. how long has it been since you went outside the house?" Mrs. Cope asked. "I know I wasn't around for Christmas, but did you go somewhere? Europe maybe?"

Bella shook her head. No, she hadn't been to Europe, or anywhere else, for Christmas. Her phone call to her parents on Christmas morning was the only thing that stood out from any other day of her life. Carlisle didn't celebrate Christmas. He used to indulge her once upon a time; a time long forgotten. Not anymore. But Mrs. Cope didn't need to know that.

"When you were living with your parents, did you go to Port Angeles a lot?" Mrs. Cope wanted to know.

"No, not much. Sometimes my dad had to see a specialist, but usually my mom would drive him."

"So, it's safe to say you don't have a favorite haunt in town there?"

"Not really. I mean I did come here to shop sometimes, but nothing special really." Bella's responses were half-hearted, as usual.

"What about in Forks? You went to school here, right? You must have a ton of places you are familiar with, no? Do you have a favorite place here?" Mrs. Cope persisted.

Bella tried to recall her childhood and adolescence, and the numerous nooks and corners around town that she knew like the back of her hand; she and Alice. First Beach, Newton's Outfitters, Cora's Diner, the hidden clearing in the woods; all places that were nothing but fading remnants of a life left behind. Even though physically she still lived in the same quaint town of her childhood, she was no longer a part of it. The people and friendships that tethered her to this place were severed a while ago. She now floated precariously on the surface merely occupying space, but not connected to anything.

"It's a small place. They don't have fancy cafes or malls here," Bella stated while looking out the window of the passenger's side of the car.

Mrs. Cope nodded. She was aware of it. It took her all of one day to explore the town in its entirety when she took up residence there to take care of Bella. But her true goal was not to learn new things about the town; she wanted to learn new things about Bella.

"But even in a small place like this you must've had a favorite spot. Where did you hang out with Alice?" Mrs. Cope asked as she kept her eyes trained on the road.

Ever since Bella divulged the name of her former best friend, Mrs. Cope had tried on several occasions to weave the name into their conversations. Bella contributed little else other than to flinch slightly, giving away the hurt the name evoked.

Bella lowered her gaze to her lap sadly and for a moment it seemed she would not respond at all. "We'd hang out at her house mostly when I had the time. And when we were older she'd come over to the diner - that's Cora's Diner. I used to work there the summer before we graduated. We'd hang out there sometimes," Bella said in a listless voice.

"Great. The diner it is. Let's see what they have on their brunch menu," Mrs. Cope said cheerfully.

Before Bella could interject, Mrs. Cope manoeuvred the car to switch lanes rapidly in order to take the exit that would lead them back to Forks. This prompted an anxious response from Bella. She frantically twisted her body within the confines of the seat belt in search of the black Mercedes Rodney was following them in. Her husband never put any restrictions on her movements, but he did give her very clear instructions that once outside of the mansion she was to be within Rodney's line of vision at all times.

"Stop, what are you doing?" Bella asked fearfully. "Rodney thinks we are going to Port Angeles. We have to call him."

"Fine, call him and let him know we've had a change in plan."

Bella tried to recall when she had last seen her cell phone. She vaguely remembered seeing it resting on top of the bureau in her bedroom. She hadn't used the device in months. It didn't even occur to her to bring it along when she left the house; a decision she sorely regretted now.

"I left it back at the house..." she guiltily admitted.

"Relax Bella, he has eyes. He'll figure it out on his own. He saw us taking the exit," Mrs. Cope tried to placate Bella's concerns. This was the most initiative Bella had displayed in the entire time she had known her. She intended to cultivate it the best she could.

Mrs. Cope's words didn't seem to have their desired effect. Bella was just as apprehensive as she tried to convince Mrs. Cope to stop the car. "You don't understand. He'll get into trouble if he loses me. You have to pull over and call him. You have to let him know that you've changed your mind; we are going back to Forks instead."

Sylvia Cope didn't stop the car. She continued on her way to the town's only eatery. She observed the agitated form of Bella from the corner of her eyes. "Why is that, Bella? Why would he get into trouble? We won't tell anyone. We are just a few miles from home. The crime rate is as close to zero as it gets. Rodney will figure it out and find us eventually. Besides, we can call him from the diner. That way no one will get into trouble."

Her words had little calming influence, but Mrs. Cope was more curious than concerned - and maybe somewhat gratified - about the fact that _something _could still ignite this kind of a response from Bella, even if it was one of distress and fear. The young woman she had been hired to look after for the past months was a little more than a zombie; she didn't fight back and never engaged in anything that went on around her. It was as if she had resigned from life completely. She had withdrawn so deep within her inner sanctuary that she couldn't even be bothered to end her life.

"Don't worry, Bella." Mrs. Cope tried again to lessen Bella's worries as she watched her continuously checking the side mirror to locate Rodney's car behind them. "I promise you that nothing bad will happen to you. We will get to the diner and wait for Rodney. If he doesn't show up in ten minutes, we will call him and give him our location. We will then have a nice brunch, which Rodney is welcome to join, and then you will give me a tour of the town. How does that sound?"

Bella did not appear convinced but she settled into her seat in surrender.

The drive back towards Forks was silent. They were not far from the outskirts of town when Mrs. Cope turned her car around and soon they were in the vicinity of Cora's.

Mrs. Cope parked the car in the designated lot outside and turned to Bella.

"We're here. Now it wasn't so bad, was it?" she said encouragingly as she smiled. "Are you ready to go in?"

Bella's demeanor was once again withdrawn and impassive. She looked at her surroundings with a wistful sadness. The once familiar parking lot seemed as foreign as an alien landscape. She no longer belonged here. She listlessly watched the once known faces streaming in and out of the diner. She was not one of them anymore. To them, she was the quintessential small town girl who made it big; who got her fairly tale cake and ate it too. They would peruse her with awe, curiosity and suppressed whispers.

They didn't know.

She couldn't face them.

"I... can we please go to Port Angeles instead? I don't feel like diner food..." Bella protested quietly in her usual resigned voice, as if the outcome of her request held little consequence to her. The burst of life she had displayed a while ago gone from her voice.

Mrs. Cope witnessed Bella sink back into her pit of despair and it gave her a moment of pause to reconsider the merit of her mission today. It broke her heart to have to subject the poor girl to anything that would add to her plight, however undefined and ambiguous they might be. It felt as though she was tormenting a wounded animal that didn't have the means to run away or fight back.

She steeled her resolve by reminding herself that she was doing this to help Bella, because if she didn't no one would, and because she wanted to leave her in a better state than she found her in, should her term of employment came to an unexpected end like Dr. Weber's.

"I'm sure they have something on their menu we can choose from. You worked here, you say? Come on, it will be fun! Maybe they will remember you and we will get the VIP treatment?" Mrs. Cope tried to draw Bella into her enthusiasm. "Let's give it a try, shall we? Just for a little while." She looked at Bella with expectant eyes.

They sat in the car for a few more moments, and when Bella didn't voice any protests, Mrs. Cope said, "Great! Let's go in."

She got out of the car and waited for Bella to join her, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Bella emerged from the car tentatively.

It was a cold and wet day, and Bella pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she followed the older women to the entrance of the diner.

It was a busy time for Cora's with the crowd leaving the Sunday church service swarming the place to the brim. Mrs. Cope and Bella managed to blend with the rest and found themselves in a booth near the corner.

However, trouble came from an unexpected source. Soon after they were seated, the overwhelming aroma of coffee, bacon, and the assorted edibles that made up the all-American morning cuisine attacked Bella's olfactory senses. The crowded diner packed with nearly half the town's population meandering in close proximity only exacerbated the effect.

Bella felt sick. An excess of sweat and a copious amount of saliva released in her mouth signalled the inevitable. She thought she had a handle over her body's reaction; she had managed to stave off the persistent purging for months now. But it appeared that her control was effective only within the confines of the mansion.

_Please, not here. Not now._

She raised one hand to press down on her mouth. Her eyes teared at the effort it took for her to hold back the retching.

Mrs. Cope noticed her struggle and immediately came to her aid.

"Bella, how bad is it?" Without waiting for a reply, Mrs. Cope followed her initiative. "Hold my hand. Do you remember where the bathroom is here?" she asked.

The diner's washroom was at the back. She knew she wouldn't make it in time. She shook her head imperceptibly, signalling the futility of that idea.

Mrs. Cope understood her gesture. She deftly left her seat and was by her side as she gently grabbed Bella around her shoulders and led her outside, ignoring the smiling waitress who was about to bring them the menus. "You will be ok, sweetheart. A little fresh air will work like a miracle," she said in a comforting manner.

Once back in the parking lot, Bella collapsed next to their car, still struggling to hold back last night's meal and fighting off the residual aroma of food from the diner that triggered such a violent reaction from her.

All these months of exercise in control and discipline were for nothing. Mrs. Cope would have to report to her husband if she threw up. He would not be pleased. The long months of respite had made her complacent and spoiled. She couldn't go back to how things were before. The mere thought of it made her want to cry.

However, the dread of consequence that might befall her appeared to have the desired sobering effect, and after a while the crippling spell of nausea passed away.

Only when she was fairly certain that she was not at risk of expelling her stomach's content did she open her eyes to take in her surroundings. She was sitting on the slushy asphalt next to Mrs. Cope's car who was soothingly dabbing Bella's forehead with a handkerchief.

She looked around and was relieved to find that her public humiliation went mostly unnoticed by the townsfolk, thanks to the relatively isolated spot their car was parked in. Also, as luck would have it, Rodney was standing just a few feet away. She didn't have to worry after all; he'd found her.

Bella almost felt embarrassed to have Rodney witness her making such a spectacle of herself, but then she remembered that he had seen her in worse situations. He knew what a mess she truly was. She was long past the point of feeling indignant about him seeing her like this.

The slight irritation on his face that was breaking through his usual impassive mask belied how furious he truly was. When Bella finally stood up on shaky feet, resting some of her weight on Mrs. Cope, Rodney took a few long steps to reduce the distance between them and let his displeasure over her break with the security procedure known.

"Mrs. Cullen, you are not to take any unplanned detours when you are not being driven by me. You know that very well, Ma'm. Mr. Cullen will be very upset when he finds out." He nearly hissed through his teeth, never raising his voice, but making it perfectly clear that the incident would be reported. Rodney took his job very seriously. Any deviation in his clearly mapped out security protocol was unacceptable.

Mrs. Cope was about to interject but Bella stopped her before she could defend her action. "I'm sorry about that, Rodney. It was a last minute decision. I wanted to... check something out here and asked Mrs. Cope to bring me back to Forks. I should have called you, but I realized I left my phone back home. I knew you'd be able to find me, so..." Bella spoke softly and clearly.

Her husband did not tolerate dissension among those who were on _his_ payroll. Bella did not want the same fate that had befallen Dr. Weber to descend upon Mrs. Cope. Whether she wanted to or not, Bella had come to depend on the comfort the older woman's presence brought to her life.

Mrs. Cope quietly watched the exchange and drew her own conclusions. She decided to find a way to ask Bella about Rodney later. For now, she focused on how to salvage the rest of the day from folding.

Given Bella's queasy stomach, she didn't want to resume their drive, nor did she think it was a good idea to insist Bella brave the diner once again so soon after her last ordeal.

"Why don't we sit over at the bench for a little while? The cold air could actually help a bit. We can regroup and plan what to do with the rest of the day before getting back on the road. Ok?" Mrs. Cope proposed.

Bella nodded in agreement since at the moment there was very little she could do. The cold benches that lined the area between the parking lot and the woods beyond were a preferable place to sit than the dirty snow she had just acquainted herself with. She was longing to go back to the mansion so she could curl up in her usual corner and wait while what was left of her life passed her by. But she realized that she shouldn't risk a car ride in her current condition.

"Please inform me of your destination and route before you start again," Rodney curtly stated before walking back to his car and getting behind the wheel. His careful scrutiny ensured that the benches would be in clear view from his position.

He had no intention of letting Mrs. Cullen out of his sight again. This wouldn't be a problem at all if she had taken her own car as he had the means to electronically track every vehicle the Cullens owned. But she was being driven by Mrs. Cope whose car wasn't chipped and Rodney had no way of pinpointing their location if he hadn't noticed them take the unscheduled exit from the highway.

Mrs. Cope kept a gentle hold on Bella's arm as they made it to the benches. Bella's jacket was soiled in mud and she wondered if she'd have to discard it upon returning to the mansion.

"Did you get ice inside your clothes, Bella? We should get you indoors soon," Mrs. Cope remarked.

"No, no. I'm dry. It's only the jacket," Bella assured her.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Mrs. Cope wanted to ask Bella a very specific question. She wanted to know the very first incident of the problem; the very first time the smell of food had triggered this response in her.

The perimeters of her job were very clear: she was to supervise Bella into a healthy weight range - which she had achieved - and monitor Bella carefully to make sure she didn't relapse into the habit of purging - which she had only witnessed a handful of times. She was not to involve herself in the whys and hows. Over the months, she had adhered to the rules more or less. But her instinct told her that in order to truly help Bella she would have to step over the boundaries and meddle in affairs that weren't hers to pry in.

However, she also knew this wasn't the moment to bring it up, not so soon after an episode like that. So she picked a safer alternative.

"How far is your parents' old house from here?" Mrs. Cope asked.

"About three miles that way." Bella gestured with her hand to show the direction.

"You said Alice used to come by to hang out with you here. Did she live nearby?"

"Yah. Her parents' house is just around the corner there," Bella said, shivering a little and looking drained. A good sign that they should seek refuge indoors soon.

"Do they still live here? Would they mind if you dropped by to say hi?" Mrs. Cope asked unexpectedly.

"What?" Bella sounded incredulous. "No, I can't just show up at their place... that's just... no." She shook her head. She hadn't seen the Brandons since the day of her wedding. Plenty had happened since then, including her fallout with Alice. She didn't know what they thought of her now, and she didn't want to find out by showing up at their doorstep on a Sunday morning without a word of warning.

Mrs. Cope didn't expect Bella to agree to an impromptu visit to the Brandons, but she really wanted to bring Bella to a place where she would be able to find and reclaim parts of her past self; parts that might help to piece back the broken girl who didn't seem to care enough to hold on to the remaining fragments. Like several of her earlier attempts, the day was proving to be another failure. She had clearly over estimated Bella's strength to weather the outside world. Maybe the diner wasn't a good idea.

"Maybe we should wait inside the car. It will be warmer there," Mrs. Cope suggested.

Bella didn't make any move to get up despite the cold. She wanted to curl up on the bench and go to sleep.

"Let's go, Bella. We'll wait in the car until you feel better, then I'll drive you home." Mrs. Cope prodded her to move, which she did with reluctance. Following instructions came quite naturally to her these days.

Once inside the car, Mrs. Cope turned up the heat so their frozen fingers and ears could thaw out.

"Boy, that was cold," Mrs. Cope muttered as she rubbed her hands together to warm them up faster. "You ok, Bella? You look a little... just open the door if you are feeling sick again, honey." She noticed Bella's unease and tried to intervene in order to relieve her stress.

"No, I'm ok. I just ruined your car seat with all the... mud and ice from my clothes," Bella said with clear concern in her voice.

"Don't worry about that, Bella. I can have it cleaned when we get home. It's not a big deal. No worries, ok?" Mrs. Cope eased her anxiety with a soothing tone. "The important thing is that you start feeling better soon, alright? That won't happen if you work yourself up by worrying about slush. It's winter in Washington; mud will get inside the car. I don't mind."

Sylvia's words appeared to ease Bella's mind and she settled into her seat as the warm air slowly lulled her to relax.

As the clocked ticked by, Sylvia Cope tried to fill the void with chatter that might lead to more glimpses into Bella's guarded mind. "How are your parents doing? Did you talk to them recently?"

"Fine, they are doing ok," replied Bella, as she had done on nearly every occasion Mrs. Cope asked her the same question.

"They sold their house here to move to Florida, right?" Sylvia Cope took another shot.

Bella nodded while looking out the window. She had begun to accept and appreciate the older woman's companionship, but talking about herself was a difficult challenge that she struggled with still.

"What are the property prices like in this town, do you know? Did your parents get a good price? I was thinking you know, Forks is kind of growing on me. Maybe when I'm done here I'll look into buying a place and settle down. I am beginning to see the 'small-town' charm a place like this can have." Mrs. Cope switched tactics as she led the conversation away to something that didn't concern Bella directly. Or so she thought.

Bella's face fell at the memory; the selling of their house and the ill begotten fruit from the proceeds of the sale. How she wished she could go back and change it all. How she wished she had paid attention when her mother tried to draw her into the wedding plans. But she didn't. She barely had the faculty to deal with the storm in her heart to spare any thought to what Renee was suggesting. Consumed by her own conflicted mind, Bella offhandedly nodded to everything her mother waved before her face and signed away their life without a second thought.

"They got... they got a fair price," Bella mumbled half-heartedly.

Mrs. Cope sensed that she was treading near one of the many forbidden places that Bella guarded with zeal. Usually the young girl locked down her mind the moment she sensed any intrusion, but today she seemed less alert, perhaps due to the change of setting combined with the stressors she had experienced since the morning.

"What street did you say your house was on?" Sylvia Cope asked innocuously.

"It's on Pine Street, past the bridge."

"Hmn. I see," Mrs. Cope remarked without letting her voice give away her curiosity. "Do you think it's ok if I started the car? I will go slow and won't take any sharp turns, and if at any time you feel queasy, just give me the word and I will pull over. Ok?"

"Ok," Bella consented in a barely audible voice.

"I'll go over and tell 'Mr. Sunshine' over there that he should follow us back to the house, or he'll get his panties in a bunch again. I'll be right back." Sylvia Cope gestured toward Rodney as she got out of the car. Bella watched her walk over to the Mercedes and talk to her body guard before returning to her Subaru.

They pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the Cullen estate. Bella kept her gaze trained on the gnarled trees and barren branches of winter as their car sped past them. The landscape resembled her soul, and if she wasn't so lost in comparing the two she would have noticed that they were not taking the shortest possible route to the mansion. Instead, they were moving further into the residential parts of the town, parts that perhaps would look familiar to her if she were paying attention. But just as with her mother and the wedding plans, Bella was not paying attention, and she was duly surprised when Sylvia Cope's voice pulled her out of her musings.

"Hey, didn't you say your old house was on Pine Street?" Mrs. Cope asked cheerfully as she took a gentle right to turn into the street that led to her childhood home. "Which one was your house?" she asked again.

Bella hadn't been back to this neighborhood in three years, not since her parents handed over the deed of the house to the new owners and flew out to the warmth of Florida the day after her wedding. Being thrust into the path of a tsunami of memories unsettled Bella to no end. Her heart clenched and she wanted to escape.

"Why... why are you turning here? This is not... this is not the way to the house..." The distress was clear in Bella's voice.

"It's ok, Bella. I just thought we'd take a longer route instead. Maybe you could show me around a little. Also, I'm curious to see where you grew up," Mrs. Cope spoke gently as she slowed down the car to a near crawl. "Indulge me, please."

Bella wanted to refuse. She wanted to demand that Mrs. Cope turn around and take her back to the illusion of safety the mansion held for her, but her voice choked and eyes watered. She couldn't look away from the familiar pavements and houses that lined the street. She pressed her hand on the cold, rolled-up window of the car, as if she could touch the past through the glass.

Mrs. Cope observed her with compassion and curiosity. She didn't have to ask again which house was Bella's. The way the young girl's head turned longingly when the car passed by a generic looking, two-storied structure told her that she had found the right place.

She reversed the car a few yards and then turned off the engine. She sat quietly next to Bella, allowing the girl to submerge herself in memories, hoping the onslaught would somehow jar her mind enough to make her want to stand up to her demons; to want to live.

Bella was oblivious to the carefully orchestrated stage Sylvia Cope had fashioned for her. She was far too busy coping with the flashing glimpses of faces, laughter and bruised knees that were assaulting her with relentless vigor. Faces she had tried to bury deep within her heart, and laughter she knew would never come forth from her again. She thought she could hear the voice of her mother insisting she finished homework before going out to play outside with Alice, and her father indulgingly pleading her case so she would be allowed to do it before bed time.

The house looked much the same as it did three years ago, only the window shutters were now painted red instead of the blue of her childhood. The wheelchair ramp had fallen into disuse and was now serving the purpose to housing snow sleds and various outdoor sports gears suitable for children. Everything was as it should be yet nothing was right. This was no more a home to her now than the mansion would ever be.

She was a stateless refugee, trapped in the infernal circles of hell. She had nowhere to go even if she were to break free from her chain.

Looking at the now strange house, she recalled a night five years ago when she came home elated from her first true encounter with Carlisle Cullen. She didn't know then how in the course of a few short years her elation would devolve into horror, and her hopes would burn out to ashes.

**AN1: I found a name for my drabble story. It's called ****Where the Streets Have No Name****. There's a lot more Edward in it than in Beautiful Sorrow, but of course I don't deal with easy. I was really hoping to start posting on Jan 1st, but I couldn't score a banner. So, I will put it off until I have one. I hope you'll check it out. **

**AN2: Story rec - The Selkie Man by DarkBlueBella**  
><strong>It's a lovely little tale where Edward is a mythical creature of a very different nature. Brilliantly written. And oh, just wait till you hear Edward speak "Highlander"!<strong>

**AN3: A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. Check out her new story Life as We Know It.**

**Thanks to Detochkina for pre-reading and pointing out holes the size of Chicago! Brilliant woman, that one. You ought to read her story Sinnerman. **

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful. That being said, I am having second thoughts about continuing to post there. The foot traffic is minimum and reviews are nearly zero. I don't know if it's worth the trouble. **

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. But reviews are like pain pills when you have a toothache (I had a tooth pulled, by the way. Ouch!). So, kindly review. I could really use some happy!**

**Happy New Year, lovelies! Knowing you all had been an honor. Wish you a magnificent 2012! **


	27. Chapter 27

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of ch 26

She was a stateless refugee, trapped in the infernal circles of hell. She had nowhere to go even if she were to break free from her chain.

Looking at the now strange house, she recalled a night five years ago when she came home elated from her first true encounter with Carlisle Cullen. She didn't know then how in the course of a few short years her elation would devolve into horror, and her hopes would burn out to ashes.

End of Chapter 14:

"Good luck with college, Isabella. Give my regards to Charlie, would you? I hope we meet again."

With those parting words, his car pulled away from the Swan driveway, leaving behind a bedazzled, young girl rooted to the spot. His rational mind, which normally dictated all his decisions, told him to keep his distance from Isabella Swan; that prettier and better skilled, not to mention age appropriate, substitutes could easily be found elsewhere. But his heart was already addicted to the high only she could provide. As he approached his estate that night, he was already thinking of ways he would orchestrate his next fix.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 27<strong>

**Bella, age 17-18**

A dazed Bella stood by the road as the sleek and elegant car carrying the most beautiful man she had ever seen sped away from her view. She stayed rooted on spot even after the taillights disappeared in the distance, mentally construing alternative ways the last few moments she had with Carlisle Cullen could have played out. She wished she had been more articulate, better collected, and made a refined impression on the man instead of proving to be the naive and inexperienced girl that she was.

Her musings were interrupted by the porch-light coming on. Shaking away her erratic thoughts, she came back to reality and made her way inside the house. Renee was waiting right by the door it seemed. The noise of the approaching car's engine alerted her to Bella's arrival. She had been eagerly waiting for her daughter's safe return without alarming Charlie, and pulled Bella into an intense embrace as soon as she walked through the door.

"Oh Bella, I was so worried, baby. I was so scared. I'm so sorry I said those awful things, honey. I was mad at myself and took it out on you. Please forgive me, Bells, and never run away like that again," she prattled off without taking a breath or letting Bella say a word.

Bella hugged her mother back with the same ferocity. She could imagine the stress she had left Renee in all day, but she couldn't bring herself to call or face her until she'd done everything in her power to fix the trouble she had brought down on the family.

"Mom, it's ok. I'm fine. I'm sorry too for not calling you, but I... I had to do something to make things right again. How's Dad? Is he ok?" Bella asked, lowering her voice toward the end as it just occurred to her how late it was and that on any other night Charlie would be sound asleep by now.

"He's fine. He took his meds and is sleeping now. He doesn't know anything. I told him you were staying over at the Brandons. I was worried out of my mind, but knew that if your dad got all worked up I would have double the problem in my hands.

"Oh, sweetie, I was so scared. I had no idea what I'd tell him if you didn't come home. You can't do that to me again, honey. No matter how mad I get or what I say, you can't leave home like that. _Ever_." Renee asserted her plea with force and Bella nodded in understanding.

She pulled her mother toward the kitchen so she could fill her in on the matters that had transpired since that morning. Renee hadn't turned on any of the lights in the house so as not to wake Charlie, so they navigated in the darkness as they sat down at their kitchen table. Only then did Bella notice the tears in Renee's eyes. She appeared to have aged visibly in a single day.

"Oh Mom, have you been crying? Don't cry. I'm ok, everything will be okay. I spoke with Mr. Cullen. He said he'd call his lawyer and set everything up as before. You don't have to worry about anything, Mom. Really," Bella said gently in order to ease away the strain the day had brought on Renee.

The mention of their financial plight persuaded Renee to wipe at her face and look at Bella with a serious expression.

"What happened today, Bella? Where's your car? Who dropped you off just now? What did Mr. Cullen say when you went to see him? He didn't yell at you, did he?" Renee asked a slew of questions without pausing long enough to let Bella respond, as if she couldn't be sure which one she wanted the answer to the most.

Bella collected her thoughts and decided on the best method to brief her mother. With the good news already delivered, she thought now would be the appropriate time to spring the one that might be less well received.

"Well, you know I left you a note that I was going to fix things. I went to the Cullen estate first thing in the morning but the guards there wouldn't let me in. They told me to contact his office in Seattle. I thought I'd drive there, but the car broke down near Port Angeles. It needs to be towed but please don't worry about that, ok? I have the money from the diner. It will cover the cost."

"Oh, honey. You really think I am worried about that right now? We will manage. One way or another, we will manage. We'll call the Rusty's in the morning and get it fixed. I can't believe you went all the way by yourself. Bella, I'm so sorry I made you feel like it was your job to fix things. It's not. It never was. It's my job, baby. I'm a horrible mother to say those things. I'm... I'm..." Renee pulled Bella into her arms and allowed the tears to return, unable to put into words her regrets and apologies.

Bella shushed her as she held Renee close. "Mom, I'm fine. Look, I'm perfectly ok. I'm not mad, not at all. I wasn't gonna run away. I just wanted to fix this."

After a few moments, Renee collected herself and pulled away to look over her daughter carefully to make sure Bella's claims indeed held true.

"So, what happened then? You went all the way to Seattle?" Renee asked.

"Yah. I took the bus and I found his office. But when I got there they told me he wasn't in the country. They would've thrown me out too, but there was this really nice lady who told the security to lay off on me. She let me wait in her office and told me that Mr. Cullen was coming back in the evening. I knew it would get late, but I had to wait." Bella recounted her experience of the day as well as she remembered it.

She didn't know who Carmen Lake was and how she had unwittingly reset the course of her life with her kind intentions, but she was immensely grateful for the refuge she provided when the men from security were dead set on tossing her to the streets.

"So, he came in later?" Renee nudged her on.

"Yes. He came in at around six and he agreed to see me. So, I went in there and said how sorry I was and that I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Was he angry? Oh, honey, was he mean to you?" Renee asked with concern.

"Well, yah, a little. He was angry at first. He told me how my essay could hurt his business by giving a false impression to his other employees. When he said that, I didn't think he was going to give us another chance. So, I was gonna leave, but then he said he was going home to Forks too and wanted to give me a ride.

"He told me in the car that he'll forget about the whole thing!" Bella couldn't hide the excitement from her voice. "He said everything will be back to normal. He wanted me to tell you that. So, now you don't have anything to worry about. He won't stop helping us."

"Really? He said that? Oh, thank God. But why did he change his mind? If he was angry at first, what made him reconsider? He just decided to forget about the journal? Just like that?" Renee wanted to know.

"I think it's because he realized that I won't be able to go to college if he didn't help us and he didn't want that to happen. He made me promise that I will start school in fall," Bella said with a downcast face, not wanting her mother to see the reddish hue that was sure to have colored her cheeks as she recalled the last few minutes she spent in the car with Carlisle Cullen.

Her hero had come through for her again. All wrongs were made right in her world once more. Only because of one man: Carlisle Cullen.

However, Bella's attempt to shy away at the mention of the man didn't go unnoticed by Renee, and like lightning, a dreadful thought flashed across her mind. Much like Bella, she too always held Carlisle Cullen in high regards. But she was the mother of a teenage girl, and she couldn't help but consider the worst possible case scenarios that could arise from a man of Mr. Cullen's position coming across a desperate and inexperienced young woman like Bella.

Renee knew her daughter well; Bella was a caregiver and a nurturer at heart. She was selfless to boot, and Renee had done a wonderful job at making her feel responsible for their problems. If she was presented with a choice of making it all go away for a high, personal price, she would pay it willingly, without a thought to her own well-being.

"Bella," Renee said in a fear-gripped voice.

Bella looked up at the sudden change in tenor of Renee's voice.

"Sweetie, are you sure you are okay? You are not hiding anything from me, are you? He didn't... he didn't say or do anything... inappropriate, did he?" Renee asked as she clasped Bella's hands tightly in her own, scrutinizing every contour of her face for signs that might confirm her suspicion, while fervently praying that they wouldn't.

"'Cause I swear to God, if he's laid a finger on you, I'll... I'll..." Renee's voice trembled with pent up fear and frustration. She didn't know what she could do to remedy the catastrophe, if it had in fact befallen her daughter, but she knew she would never rest until she had avenged Bella's honor, even if it meant going up against an insurmountable opponent as Carlisle Cullen.

"Mom! Of course not! How could you even suggest such a thing about him?" Bella jerked her hands free from Renee's and exclaimed with indignation, momentarily forgetting to keep her voice low. "Are you completely out of your mind? Of course he didn't do anything 'inappropriate'. He's not... he's not like that. Jeez, Mom, how can you even think like that about him?" Bella shook her head with disdain as she vehemently defended the man she believed to be a saint among men.

"He was... he was so nice and kind about the whole thing. He... he didn't have to do anything for us, you know. He helped us all these years and never once expected anything back in return. And today, the only reason he was mad was because we – _I_ – broke the rules. He didn't have to help us back then, and he didn't have to forgive me today, but he did. And instead of thanking him for it you are saying such awful things about him.

"He can have any woman he wants. He doesn't have to make a pass at no-bodies like me."

The truth of the last statement stung her as much as it was meant to sting Renee. Bella knew quite well that Carlisle Cullen was out of her league, and she also knew just by how large a margin she fell short of making the cut. There was no room for such impossible dreams in her world but the truth hurt just the same.

The bitter reminder of reality prompted her to quickly reel in her temper. Renee was only looking out for her as any mother would. Bella didn't want to worry her further by over-zealously defending the object of her juvenile crush. She wasn't delusional; there was no reason to make her mother think that she was.

However, Bella's enthusiastic denial seemed to have the welcome effect of lessening Renee's worries. She exhaled a breath of relief and smiled sheepishly. "You're right. That was uncalled for. I don't know what I was thinking. It's just that there are bad people out there too, honey. And it's my job to keep you safe. You're sure everything is okay, right?"

"Yes, Mom. I promise, everything is peachy. I know there are men out there who... that I need to be careful about. But he isn't like that. You don't have to worry," Bella reassured her mother in a soft and gentle voice that released all the accumulated anxiety of the day.

Finally, mother and daughter looked at each other and smiled with hope and relief.

"Good. Now go to bed and get some sleep. You have to cover my morning shift at the diner for me, by the way. The Center called, they had to move Charlie's physio session to the morning. I'll have to drive him," Renee informed her apologetically.

"But what about my car? How will I get to the diner?" Bella pointed out.

"Damn! Completely forgot about that. I'll drop you off, then call Rusty to have your car towed, and then drive your dad to the Center. Can you ask Alice to give you a ride home? You have to call her anyway, she is worried about you too. I called their house looking for you," Renee informed her as she made plans for the next day.

"Oh no, you called Alice? Now she'll probably stake out at the diner and follow me around until my shift ends tomorrow. Great! Just what I needed; more yelling from Cora." Bella ascended the stairs to her room as she grumbled under her breath, though the affectionate note that lay underneath her words belied her eagerness to see her friend.

~CBE~

"What a douche!" Alice interrupted Bella mid-speech with her exclamation.

The two girls were sitting on their favorite bench outside the diner the following afternoon. As Bella had predicted, Alice had shown up at the diner a little after nine and used every opportunity to pump Bella for information about her mysterious disappearance the previous day. Bella received mild warnings twice for being distracted while on the clock from the owner of the diner. The third time, she was told to ask her friend to either order something or wait outside for her shift to end.

Finally, the wrap time came and Bella left the diner to meet an impatient Alice who could hardly sit still to hear where Bella had been the day before.

Bella filled Alice in on the events of the past two days, starting from the letter they had received two days ago. She was in the middle of recounting how Carlisle Cullen had pointed out ways in which her article was detrimental to his business when Alice rudely interrupted her with an exuberant outburst.

"Huh?" Bella was taken aback a little.

"I can't believe he treated you like shit after you took the trouble to go all the way to see him! And instead of giving you a medal or something, he lectures you on his stupid business? You did him a favor for God's sake! Arrgh! What a douche!" Alice reaffirmed her conviction with righteous anger.

"Hold on, Alice. He is _not_ a douche, okay? He was just telling me the truth! And you didn't let me finish even," Bella objected with furrowed brows. As always, her inherent need to defend Carlisle Cullen overrode all other prerogatives, and she stood up to let Alice know that she meant business.

Alice recognized Bella's battle stance and decided to side with restraint and getting the chance to hear the full story over proving her point. "Fine, tell me the rest."

"Okay, but you have to promise; no more trash talk." Bella laid down the rules in a stern voice, and then took her seat again to retell the rest of the events of the day.

When she was done, she looked at Alice expectantly with hope that perhaps her friend would finally see why she had placed Carlisle Cullen on the high pedestal, and how he had earned the spot. But her hopes were for naught.

"So, what you are saying is that in the four plus hours it took for you to get from Seattle to home he could have told you that you had nothing to worry about, but he made you sweat the entire time? He had to wait until you were practically home to let you know he would fix everything for you? What kind of a douche bag is this guy? Oh my God, Bella! How can you still take his side? This guy's a massive crap-case!"

Alice clearly wasn't impressed with the man the same way Bella was, and though it irked Bella to a great extent, she resigned to let the argument go.

"You just don't get it," Bella said sadly and decided to move on to a different topic. "So, did you hear back about the apartment?"

The two friends spent the rest of the afternoon doing what they usually did these days; talking about college, independence, adulthood and the possibility of meeting the love of their life. That was until Bella checked the time and realized she should be heading home to start dinner.

"Hey Al, can you give me a ride home? It's getting late. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I should get dinner ready," Bella asked. "You are welcome to stay over," she added.

"Sure," Alice said as they headed towards her parked car. "What are you making? I'll stay as long as it's not spinach soup again." She scrunched her nose at the memory of her last meal at the Swan house.

Bella shook her head in amusement. "Spinach is good for you, but no worries, I'm not making spinach tonight. I'm thinking I'll try something with chicken and broccoli. I'll even let you help. So what do'ya say? Are you game?"

"Har har! Fine, count me in," Alice said half-heartedly. She knew how Bella felt about her responsibility toward her family, and that she would never blow off her tasks in favor of an evening filled with meaningless fun with Alice. Helping her with cooking would at least ensure she'd get to spend some more time with her friend – threat of broccoli aside.

~CBE~

True to Mr. Cullen's word, the Swans received correspondence from Harold Jenks within the week. They were informed that after taking the mitigating circumstances under consideration, Carlisle Cullen had reinstated their financial arrangement. Unless they were again to be found in breach of the key conditions of their agreement, they would continue to receive the monthly allowance checks for Charlie and Renee was welcome to submit reimbursement requests for costs incurred in connection with his treatment.

Renee was ecstatic to get the concrete proof of Carlisle Cullen's verbal assurance. Bella never doubted his words but was glad how it eased her mother's woes. She wished there was a way she could thank the man in person for his generosity and kindness. In the end, she decided not to rock the boat. Mr. Cullen clearly was extremely protective of his privacy. Her enthusiastic gratitude could be perceived as an unwelcome encroachment on his personal space. It was better that she didn't tempt fate again. This time Mr. Cullen might not be as forgiving.

Nonetheless, she couldn't help but fantasize about ways she could demonstrate her appreciation for the man. After all, he did extract a promise from her. Would it be so wrong if she tried to show him the evidence of her compliance? Her imagination ranged from baking cookies to sending a thank you note saying that she was indeed attending college. She laughed at the futility of them all and in the end directed all her energy to prepare for her move to the big city instead.

They got lucky with the apartment near campus and made plans to move in on the first of the month. The Brandons offered to pay for the deposit on the place which took a big load off of Bella's worries. The cost of towing and fixing her car had taken out a big bite out of her start-off funds that she was diligently saving from her pay checks at the diner. It meant there wouldn't be any carefree time for her on campus at all; she would have to find employment as soon as they moved to Seattle.

Bella wasn't deterred by these minor hindrances. They were nothing compared to how close she came to the possibility of having to drop out even before she could start college. So, with indomitable optimism and eyes filled with dreams, Bella hugged her parents goodbye on the morning of the first of September to make her journey to officially move to her new home over one hundred and thirty miles away. She had packed the back of her car with her meager possessions and was ready to embrace the challenges the long road ahead held for her.

Bella moved in first and Alice arrived at their new place the following weekend. Her parents wanted to be actively present to oversee their baby girl set up her first home away from the nest. So, the first few days Bella had the apartment all to herself. It gave her the chance to unpack and settle in, and even start a scouting mission to find work around campus. She had never stayed alone in a house before. She was excited and scared in equal parts about this lesson in adulthood that awaited her in her new home. She was also immensely proud of herself in the morning when she woke up to the strange surroundings, and realized that she had successfully survived a whole night all by herself in a city she wasn't yet familiar with.

The orientation week didn't start until the end of the first week of the month and Bella devoted all the time she could spare – when she wasn't proactively reading up on her course work or accompanying Alice to locate all the 'cool' spots on campus - to look for work. She would have preferred to work as an intern or research assistant for a professor, but she soon learned that these coveted positions were in short supply, and when available, usually went to graduate students or those in their final year of bachelor work.

Her eighteenth birthday was coming up and she wanted to drive back home to spend it in the warmth of her parents' welcoming company, but she was hesitant to spend her paltry savings on gas without having a solid income source at hand. She had approached all the cafes, book shops, supermarkets, and malls within an acceptable distance and was somewhat encouraged when she finally got a call from a high end department store just as she was getting antsy about her job prospects.

She went for the interview armed with her sparse resume and a letter of reference from Cora's, and was much relieved when she was offered a job on the spot to man the perfume counter of the store. She would be required to wear a sleek looking uniform that Bella thought resembled a flight attendants' attire and would have to stay on her feet the entire time she was on duty. However, she was immensely happy to have the promise of a steady pay check and the guaranteed work hours on Fridays and in the evening of one other weekday to be determined later. She was further delighted to learn that she wasn't expected to start her training until the week following her birthday.

As she settled into her new life in a new city, she pondered how things were working out for her in spite of all the obstacles that lay in her path. She frequently thought of Carlisle Cullen as well since he had been instrumental in making everything possible for her.

The high rise building that housed the Cullen headquarters was visible from the front of department store where Bella worked. She thought of him every time she went to work, and she silently thanked him every time she left for the day. She really didn't think she would ever see the man in flesh again, but she were to be proven wrong soon.

On a Friday afternoon, after she had finished her shift at the perfume counter, she paused on her way home to look through the window of a Verizon outlet. She didn't have a cell phone but was seriously considering splurging on a basic package. After all, it was practically half way through the first decade of the twenty first century. Wasn't it about time she caught up with the age? Everyone she had met on campus owned one. Even Alice, who was socially challenged on most days, had recently gotten a Nokia from her parents. Having one of these was more of a necessity than a luxury, she argued with her frugal self.

She was consumed by her thoughts and was examining the displayed products so minutely that she didn't at first notice the reflection of the man appear on the glass right next to the spot where a shiny Motorola was nestled in its holding slot.

Even when she noticed his face, she smiled at the reflection without turning around, chalking it up to her creative imagination and the countless spritz of assorted perfumes she had inhaled all day. Surely the man himself couldn't be standing right behind her. Better to enjoy the vision while it lasted. And what a vision it was. The slanted rays of autumn sun had cast a golden hue on the world and it illuminated the locks of his mane in the most spectacular manner. He looked glorious.

She hungrily took in the beautiful face and smiled again at her imagination. Her imagination smiled back. She would have happily stayed rooted to the spot, ignoring the street crowd and curious passersby for all eternity, or until her mind failed to sustain the conjuring of such vivid apparitions. But the magic was shattered to a million pieces when she heard the reflection speak.

"We meet again, Isabella. I hope college is agreeing with you."

**AN1: I have posted my drabble ****Where the Streets Have No Name****. Would appreciate it if you checked it out. **Very inexplicably I got embroiled in a "Drabble War". As a warring party, **Chapter 3 of this story will go up on Friday and will have daily updates from then on. **

**AN2: I am donating an outtake of Beautiful Sorrow to Fandom4Heroes, and a little something I wrote for Lulabelle98 to Fandom4Children. I won't deceive you into thinking that the compilations are going to be particularly enriched as a result, but these are worthy causes, so consider donating. The links and details are on my profile. **

**AN3: ** **And Tenement Halls by Nayarit **  
><strong>I read this OS last night and was rightfully floored. Pure, gut-wrenching angst presented with poignant poetry. I strongly recommend it, but only if you have a stomach for heartbreak. <strong>

**AN4: A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98, for making all this readable. Check out her new story Life As We Know It.**

**Thanks to Detochkina AND the the brilliant ladies at EBS for making me write and helping in shape the narrative! **

**Thanks to WutheringBites for validating my story at Twilighted. I am most grateful. **

**I am thankful to all those who've read, alerted and fav-d my story. Reviews are absolutely amazing, but I just wanted to say how happy I am that you are here even if you don't. **


	28. Chapter 28

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of chapter 27

She hungrily took in the beautiful face and smiled again at her imagination. Her imagination smiled back. She would have happily stayed rooted to the spot, ignoring the street crowd and curious passersby for all eternity, or until her mind failed to sustain the conjuring of such vivid apparitions. But the magic was shattered to a million pieces when she heard the reflection speak.

"We meet again, Isabella. I hope college is agreeing with you."

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 28<strong>

**Bella, age 18**

The velvety, smooth voice that Bella remembered with crystal clarity jarred her back to reality. She turned around to face the man whom she was convinced to be a figment of her imagination just a moment ago. Her wide-eyed disbelief gave way to unadulterated joy by the sight that greeted her.

He was there.

He was _really_ there.

She didn't know what would bring him to this part of the city in the middle of a workday, but she didn't dwell on the trivialities. She was too grateful for the serendipitous encounter, however accidental it might be, to question it.

The impossible had happened again. A rare second chance for her to behold the perfection that wasn't meant be a regular occurrence for her. How fortunate was she that he would even remember her, let alone stop by to initiate a conversation after running into her on the street? She desperately hoped she would make a better impression this time.

The possibility that he could have orchestrated this stage with weeks of careful planning was an outlandish thought that she wouldn't have believed even if someone had informed her so.

She quickly took stock of herself and made sure she wasn't gaping at the man like an imbecile. She was in her street clothes, looking as plain as she always did. She wished her employer didn't insist that she left behind her work clothes at the end of her shift each time. At least she wouldn't be looking so pedestrian now if she had her uniform on, minus the name tag of course.

Deciding to make the best of her limitations, Bella squared her shoulders and addressed the man with polite reverence.

"Good afternoon, sir. Yes, school's been great so far, thank you."

Carlisle Cullen, as impeccable as ever, smiled approvingly as he took a few steps closer to where Bella was standing. "I'm pleased to hear that, Isabella. It would have been a shame if a smart girl like you didn't follow through with your plans.

"So, what are you doing here so far from the campus?" he asked.

"Oh, I work here. I mean I work at a store nearby. I was on my way home and just stopped to... check something out." Bella suddenly felt shy to tell him about her work or her window shopping. They were just as unremarkable as she was and didn't merit being mentioned in his presence. She wistfully wished she had something interesting to report to Mr. Cullen that was worthy of his attention.

"I see. Where do you work? And what exactly is it that you do?" Carlisle asked with curiosity.

"Uh... I work at the perfume counter, over at _Blossoms_." Bella flushed and floundered, and lowered her gaze in shame. She felt insignificant in his presence even without having to confess to her common place occupation in a generic department store.

"You work with perfume? Ah, now I know why you smell so good then," Carlisle said with a hint of humor.

If Bella felt flustered earlier she was barely coherent now. She could feel her face go through a whole range of shades that rested on the red end of the spectrum.

_Oh my God! He thinks I smell good? I must have heard it wrong!_

"Relax, Isabella. I am only joking. Though I am being truthful too," Carlisle said with an amused smile. He had waited patiently for months to witness her flounder exactly like this. Her reactions didn't disappoint him. She was just as enchanting and innocent as he remembered, and her gaze still held the wonders of the world. He found it exhilarating.

It was worth the wait.

Bella wished she had the sophistication to demurely laugh along with Mr. Cullen and appear unaffected by his wit. But she wasn't sophisticated and didn't have a hope in the world to hide her embarrassment. Instead she clutched her backpack tightly in front of her and prayed for the earth to part so she could seek refuge within its sanctualy.

"I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable. That was uncalled for. I assure you, Isabella, it was not my intention. I will leave you to your errand then. I wouldn't want to intrude on your plans." Carlisle suddenly wiped away all playfulness from his face as he motioned to step away from Bella, presumably to be on his way.

A slew of thoughts occurred to Bella all at once, and the resultant panic completely erased the sense of awkwardness she was experiencing a moment earlier.

_He is leaving!_

_I will never see him again!_

_I didn't even get to thank him properly!_

_Why am I so stupid?_

_It's so unfair!_

_I have to do something!_

_But what?_

"Please don't... I mean... you aren't intruding. I mean, you shouldn't apologize. It's my fault completely. I mean..." Bella blurted out without sorting her thoughts first, and when she heard her own disjointed plea it made her want to cry in frustration. She was not doing a stellar job at demonstrating that she was, in fact, capable of normal human speech.

Carlisle paused and silently observed Bella's struggle for words. She held an exquisite appeal. Unlike him, she didn't have a mental armor to protect herself from the world; she wore her heart on her sleeve. Of course he understood that the difference in their age and backgrounds was an important determinant, but still he couldn't imagine himself ever being so unguarded and open to the world even when he was her age. She was guileless and unjaded. And that's what made her so precious to him.

"I mean, I know you are busy and I wouldn't want to cause any hold up in your schedule, but please don't leave on my account." It took her a few moments, but Bella finally managed to line up a coherent enough sentence that she hoped sounded sufficiently intelligent to address the situation.

"Very well, Isabella. If you are sure," Carlisle conceded evenly. "I was hoping maybe you could fill me in on how your school is going. Unless of course you have plans for the evening."

Bella was of course once again flustered and speechless.

_He wants to know about my school! I can't be hearing this right! How can he possibly want to know about me?_

"Uhh... uh... I don't have plans," Bella stated, completely forgetting the promise she had made to Alice to go with her to a mixer that evening.

"Perfect. Then perhaps you wouldn't mind accompanying me to an early supper? You can tell me all about your classes while we eat. I'm quite famished, really," Carlisle proposed smoothly that left little room for objection.

"Supper? Uh... sure. But..." Bella was once again fraught with a multitude of thoughts vying for her brain's attention.

_Supper? Where?_

_Could he possibly be inviting me to his place? Surely that's not possible._

_Would it be polite to invite him to mine? How can I possibly serve him Ramen noodles? I'd rather die!_

_I'll have to pick up groceries first. But how can I ask him to wait while I cook._

_What if he hates my cooking? What if it gives him food poisoning? Oh no!_

"Good. I know just the place. You are not opposed to French food, are you?" Carlisle spoke nonchalantly and eased Bella's frantic mind.

_Of course, he meant a restaurant. How did I even think he'd want me to go to his place? What's wrong with me?_

Bella shook her head to express that she didn't have any qualms about French food. After all, in order to form an opinion she would first have to experience it; Bella had never been to an exclusive French eatery before. She had never been to a Mongolian restaurant either. But she would gladly go to one now in order to follow the man who was nothing short of perfection in her eyes.

Carlisle didn't take his eyes off of her, but lifted his right hand and made a subtle gesture with his fingers to summon something that Bella couldn't see. Like magic, a sleek and elegant car pulled up to the curb like a chariot in waiting.

Carlisle motioned for her to get into the back of the car as Bella noticed that it was not the same car that shuttled her to Forks a few months ago, nor was it the same man driving it. However, the smell inside the car held the same rich aroma of wealth and refinement that she had come to associate with Carlisle Cullen. She found herself rightfully intoxicated by the plush comfort of the car, not to mention the company it provided.

She didn't ask where exactly he was taking her; it hardly mattered. She trusted him implicitly, and would willingly accompany him to the end of the earth if that's where he was taking her.

**AN: I'd love your thoughts on ****Where the Streets Have No Name****. (No pressure!)**

**A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98.**

**Thanks to Detochkina, EBS, and WutheringBites for their kind contributions. **

**Thanks to ****opheliasmuse, ****ms_ambrosia10, and KitsuShel for WC. **

**Thank you for reading. Thank you for reviewing. Much love.**


	29. Chapter 29

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of chapter 28

She didn't ask where exactly he was taking her; it hardly mattered. She trusted him implicitly, and would willingly accompany him to the end of the earth if that's where he was taking her.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 29<strong>

**Bella, age 18**

Carlisle didn't give any instructions to his driver, but he seemed to know where he was meant to take them. Bella hadn't had the chance to explore the city too extensively yet. However, she could tell that they were leaving behind the commercial quarters and entering the posher areas of the city; areas she never had any reason to venture into so far.

Carlisle didn't try to initiate any more conversations as he appeared to be quietly concentrating on a piece of document that was awaiting his attention. Bella tried to steal glimpses of his face that was so serious and engrossed in the task at hand. So utterly beautiful.

She didn't want to be caught staring, so she forced her eyes to look out the window instead, watching the city streets and people as she began to ponder the dramatic turn of events that was taking her so far away from the routine of her ordinary life. Her pondering came to an unresolved end as their car pulled up in front of their destination.

Bella noticed the stylish neon sign spelled _Euphorique_ above the entrance. This gave her a pause. Even with her limited knowledge about the city she knew the name of the establishment. The city guide book Alice's parents gave her had a full page feature on this high end, fine-dining place that hosted the creme de la creme of Washington's rich and famous.

Her astonishment over her impending entrance into a place she never thought she would ever afford to gain access to nearly made her miss the fact that the driver was holding the door open for her to disembark.

"Is everything alright, Isabella?" Carlisle asked when she took too long to leave the back seat, prompting her to scramble out with too much haste and zero grace.

The driver extended a hand to hold her steady which embarrassed Bella even more. She barely could coax out a thank you before she had to move away so Carlisle could step out after her.

She followed Carlisle into the restaurant and was duly impressed with the lush and shiny interior. They were greeted by the hostess who was perhaps the most stunning woman Bella had seen in person to date.

"Good evening, Mr. Cullen. We're so happy to have you back," the woman said with a dazzling smile.

"Thank you. I'd like my usual table please for my... company and I," he replied to the hostess as he glanced at Bella. This prompted the lady to peruse Bella with a sharp scrutiny, perhaps examining the suitability of the outfit she had on and whether it met the standards of the clientele they entertained. Bella had no doubt that it didn't. She lowered her gaze to look at her feet tucked in a pair of worn out sneakers that she had had since tenth grade. Her jeans and faded sweat shirt that had survived countless wash cycles didn't improve the picture much. Once again, she was ashamed by her existence.

"Isabella, I know I insisted that we come for a bite straight from work and didn't give you the chance to change, but I assure you that you look lovely. You have no reason to feel otherwise," Carlisle spoke with smooth certainty when he noticed Bella's discomfort before turning his attention to the hostess. He addressed her with an ice-cold authority, "Isn't that right, Miss?"

The skeptical look on the face of the hostess was instantly replaced with a professional welcoming smile, and she enthusiastically concurred with one of their most valued client, "Of course, sir. You and your guests are always welcome here. Please follow me."

They were shown to a table for two by a large glass-paned wall that overlooked the mountain range in the distance. Bella looked around with wide, awed eyes. The impeccably beautiful interior made her forget about the hunger pangs that she would have normally felt around this time after any other work day.

As soon as they were seated, a well dressed man approached their table with nearly as dazzling a smile as the hostess had.

"Ah, Mr. Cullen! Welcome back to my _humble _restaurant, sir. Jean Francois, my _Chef de cuisine_, sends his regards. His kitchen is at your disposal. Tell me, what would you like to have tonight? Or would you first like to look at our menu?" The man stood near their table as he addressed Carlisle with exaggerated politeness.

_He must be the owner_, Bella thought. She looked around and was tempted to laugh at the man's choice of words. There was nothing 'humble' about _Euphorique_.

"Thank you, Jeremy. It's always a pleasure to drop by here. What's your special today? Isabella here might like to check out your menu, so that would indeed be good," Carlisle replied with cool politeness as he gestured toward Bella.

"Very well, sir. I will send a server your way with the day's menu." With that, the man called Jeremy walked away, but not before bowing reverently to Carlisle and bestowing a gracious smile at Bella.

"Are you ok, Isabella? You are being very quiet. I hope the place is to your liking. I can vouch that the chef here is indeed one of the best in the world," Carlisle said once they were left alone. The warm and benevolent smile on his face made Bella want to melt in her seat.

_He cares about if I like this place! This place! Who would not like the best restaurant in the city?_

"No, no. It's wonderful. It's the best place in town. I've never been to a place so nice..." She quickly went on to make her gratitude clear. "Thank you for bringing me here. You didn't have to... I mean, thank you." It occurred to her that this was probably a common place for him to eat. So by saying that he didn't have to bring her here she was probably suggesting that she wasn't grateful for his generous gesture. She wondered if she would ever learn to speak intelligently in front of the man. She feared not.

Their server came by with the menus right about then and spared Bella the task of contributing to a coherent and polite conversation with her host.

Bella was surprised to see that for a place this fancy, the menu listed surprisingly few items; no more than five or six entrees. However, Bella had no idea what they were. It was all in French. As was the wine menu which was by far way longer than the main one.

Carlisle came to her rescue. "I can imagine that you are confused. They only have a few things on their menu, but their selling point is they will make you anything you like. If you know what you want, Jean Francoise will make it for you just as you prefer. Do you know what you want?"

The notion of a restaurant catering to the customer's whim like that amazed and baffled Bella.

_How do they know what to stock up for? _

_And what happens if they don't have all the ingredients for a requested cuisine?_

She wanted to ask these questions, but feared it would only make her look even more ignorant and naive than she already did.

"So, is there something you'd like to order, Isabella?" Carlisle asked again when she failed to respond to his inquiry.

"Uh... anything is fine really," Bella replied shyly, her brain coming up completely empty as she considered the limitless options presented before her.

She could hardly wrap her head around the fact that she was sitting in the costliest restaurant in the city; she couldn't think of a single thing that might be deemed appropriate to order. Spaghetti and meat balls looped in her head for a spell, but she rejected it immediately. She couldn't ask one of the best chefs in the world to make spaghetti and meat balls for her. That would surely embarrass Mr. Cullen. Not to mention the fact that _Euphrique _probablycatered to the French palate specifically.

"Perhaps you'd allow me to order something for you," Carlisle said with an indulging smile, as he noticed Bella's indecision. "Provided you trust my judgment, of course."

"Thank you. Yes please." She nodded in gratitude, relieved to be absolved of the task to have to come up with something respectable to order, or flounder with the menu she could not read.

Carlisle spoke with their server with quiet authority, pronouncing the names of the desired items in perfect French. At least, what Bella imagined perfect French sounded like.

H_ow can anyone be so perfect? _She wondered.

"And wine, sir? We have a new shipment from DRC that just arrived," their server asked, respectfully sweeping his eyes from Carlisle to Bella to include them both.

Not for the first time that evening, Bella wished she could disappear into thin air. Why did the universe hate her so much? She was bestowed with the rare privilege to sit at Carlisle Cullen's dinner table. Was it too much to ask that she be allowed to survive the evening without the glaring reminder that she wasn't of legal drinking age?

She lowered her head in humiliation, considering the merit of casually accepting the offer which would hopefully create the impression that it was a normal occurrence for her. They surely would not card the guest of Carlisle Cullen. And if she played it right, maybe Mr. Cullen wouldn't even be suspicious. After all, he didn't know exactly how old she was, did he? Her freshman status in college was somewhat of a dead giveaway, but she could have repeated a few grades back in middle school, couldn't she? She could be twenty-one.

However, before she could reach a decision she heard the silver smooth voice of Carlisle Cullen say, "Grape juice for my guest, and a bottle of Romane Conti for me. Make sure it's 1997."

_Grape juice?_

_Oh my God. He knows how old I am. _

_Now he'll always think I'm a child. He'll be handing out candies next._

_Kill me!_

Bella cursed the law that stipulated twenty-one as the minimum age to publicly consume alcohol. How unfair was that? She was an adult; she could vote, drive, and was free to live her life as she pleased. Yet she had to sit here and be humiliated because of a stupid, meaningless rule.

She didn't understand why it mattered to her so much that Mr. Cullen saw her as a grown up. But it was painfully clear to her that whatever chance there was of him seeing her as an intelligent and mature human being evaporated the moment he ordered grape juice for her.

With crushed hope and solemn resignation, Bella wished for a quick and painless death.

***DRC=Domaine de la Romanée-Conti**

**AN1: Story rec - **** Whiskey Lullaby by lvtwilight09**  
><strong>Incredibly sad, gut-wrenchingly angsty (p<strong>roceed with caution).<strong> Really beautifully written and it's completed.**

**AN2: A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98.**

**Thanks to Detochkina, EBS, and WutheringBites for all the help. **

**Thank you CentauRita for tipping the scale past 2000 reviews. You have no idea how happy that made me. I didn't see this happening for Beautiful Sorrow, ever! ** **Thank you for making the impossible a reality. **

**Thanks to opheliasmuse and Maggie Williams ****for WC. **

**Thanks to those who checked out Where the Streets Have No Name. I'm most grateful.**

**Thank you for reading. Thank you for reviewing. You make my day.**


	30. Chapter 30

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of chapter 29

She didn't understand why it mattered to her so much that Mr. Cullen saw her as a grown up. But it was painfully clear to her that whatever chance there was of him seeing her as an intelligent and mature human being evaporated the moment he ordered grape juice for her.

With crushed hope and solemn resignation, Bella wished for a quick and painless death.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 30<strong>

**Bella, age 18**

Thankfully, Bella's mortification went unnoticed by their server and Mr. Cullen. Or so she hoped. At least neither made any outward sign to indicate that they had noticed her effort to will away the rush of blood from her face.

"Are you feeling okay, Isabella? You seem a little... out of sorts. You must be famished. The food should be here soon. They are reasonably quick in their service." Carlisle Cullen reassured her with a smile.

"No, no! I'm fine. I'm not that hungry. Really." Bella tried to dispel his concern. She was far too engrossed in her present circumstances to be bothered with mundane bodily functions like sustenance - or breathing.

"So, tell me about your classes. What are you taking and who are your professors?"

As the evening progressed, Bella felt her spirit lifting a little by little. Mr. Cullen continued to ask her questions: how was she adjusting to the city life? Had she made new friends? How often did she work? Was she sure the added pressure wasn't going to take a toll on her grades? How often did she visit her parents? How were her parents doing? Were all of Charlie's medical needs being met in a timely fashion? He reminded her that she mustn't hesitate to bring to his attention any infractions or delays in processing the reimbursement requests her mother submitted.

Once her initial shyness ebbed a little, Bella found herself able to speak without stammering or struggling for words. However, she remained steadfastly spellbound by the man who sat across from her. Perhaps she was better composed to respond to queries in an articulate manner, but the sense of disbelief didn't leave her mind.

He wanted to know about her life, her work, her school. He wanted to know about her. How could that be? How could she be so lucky? Or worthy of his curiosity? She was embarrassed about her life and the lack of intrigue it held. But Mr. Cullen seemed genuinely interested, and her boring answers didn't deter him from asking for more information.

She secretly wished she could ask him a few questions too. Did he have a family? A wife or a girlfriend? Was she as beautiful and as perfect as he was? She had to be. Oh, what a vision it must be when they could be seen together. Did they have children? How old were they? What did he do when he wasn't working? Did he look this good when he woke up in the morning?

Of course she held her tongue. She knew her place in the great scheme of things. She didn't want to overstep the boundaries. Mr. Cullen valued his privacy; he might not take too kindly to her inquisitiveness.

Their conversations were punctuated by the arrival of appetizers. The arrangement and presentation of high-life cuisine appropriately stupefied Bella. It wasn't just the sight and smell that overwhelmed her senses. The unexpected taste of the artful edibles threw her off the loop as well. The large array of utensils and silverware laid out before her in synchronized precision did little to ease her confusion.

She decided that the safest course of action would be to mimic Mr. Cullen and follow his lead in order to avoid accidentally exposing her lack of grooming when it came to etiquette and table manners.

She couldn't help but note how much at ease the man seemed surrounded by grandeur. He was in his element, and it was evident in the casual grace with which he maneuvered the silverware and lifted the blood-red wine to his lips.

Bella felt strangely elated to have the chance to witness him this way. She couldn't help but recall the hasty meal they had shared in his car the day he dropped her off at home. She almost felt guilty for subjecting him to that. Rest-stop burger joints were beneath him. He belonged to places like _Euphorique. S_eeing him here felt right.

He fit in here perfectly.

She, however, did not.

The thought made her sad momentarily, but she wasn't allowed to dwell on it as Mr. Cullen's persistent questioning drew her out of her gloom.

Of the gamut of items served as starters, she only recognized what appeared to be the frothy goodness of a cappuccino. Even though she was accustomed to the home-brewed, store-brought filter coffee, Bella had had the chance to try out the fancier variety of the analgesic drink a few times while she worked at the diner. She loved the creamy caress of the soothing foam on her tongue. Of course, she could never justify spending four dollars on such frivolous indulgences on a regular basis. She was well versed in the ways of frugality.

So when the server placed a steaming cup in front of her, she was delighted that there was at least one thing she was familiar with and looked forward to experiencing again. It did strike her as odd that coffee would be part of the pre-dinner delicacies. Her limited experience taught her that it usually succeeded the meal.

_Maybe the French have their coffee before their meal._

Far too engrossed in what Mr. Cullen was saying, and feeling secure with familiarity, she took a sip from her cup without much forethought.

The strange and alien taste of seafood mixed with the essence of coffee and milk hit her palate and her entire digestive system rebelled against it before she could rein in her shocked reaction.

There was fish in her coffee.

Nothing in her short life prepared her for a scenario where fish was an acceptable ingredient in coffee.

It was not a legitimate combination by any stretch of her imagination.

She loudly choked out the little bit she sipped in and then looked in horror at the mess she made at the table.

She was petrified.

It dawned on her that she had just broken some critical rules of civility, and quite likely created grounds to make Mr. Cullen regret his decision to bring her to this place. She hung her head in shame, unwilling to see the look of derision and annoyance in his face.

She waited for words of reprimand, and perhaps to hear Mr. Cullen say how disappointed he was that she barely had the table manners of a feral child. But what she heard instead was the honey-sweet sound of laughter.

Bella cautiously lifted her gaze to look at Carlisle Cullen. He was laughing. She had never seen him so gleeful before. She recalled a few curt smiles or a rare amused expression on his face, but never laughter. He was downright radiant when he was joyous like this.

He was laughing at her stupidity, she realized. Ordinarily, it would have caused her some hurt feelings for being ridiculed so openly. It wasn't nice to make fun of people's shortcomings but she couldn't find it in herself to hold it against him. She did make an utter fool of herself. Anyone would crack up after the display she had made. At least it made him laugh. Even if it was at her expense.

She tried to wipe away the mess she made with the expensive linen napkin and hoped her cheeks would stop burning with shame. She also desperately prayed that she would not burst into tears and compound her crime.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to..." she began to apologize as Carlisle's hearty laughter began to wind down.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Isabella," Carlisle said with mirth still lingering in his voice. "In fact, I should apologize to you. I should have warned you. Lobster bisque cappuccino can be quite a shock to your system if you don't know what to expect. Your reaction is completely understandable."

"Huh?" was all Bella could manage.

"I'm sorry, but I really couldn't resist. You should have seen the look on your face," Carlisle said as he smiled broadly.

Bella was bewildered. He knew she was going to react that way and didn't warn her? Is that why he had brought her to _Euphorique_? To be his live entertainment for the evening? A comedic relief? Poor, small-town girl with no clue about high-life or French food.

She felt her soul crushing into a million pieces. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she was forced to look down, refusing to let him see how truly stupid she was.

"Would you forgive me if I tell you that I had the exact same reaction the first time I tasted that wretched coffee?" she heard him say.

"Wh... what?" she asked, trying to make sense of his confession.

"You'll have to promise never to repeat this to anyone," he warned, "but the first time I tried that stuff I nearly threw up right at the table."

"You did?" she asked in disbelief. The notion of Mr. Cullen ever being anything less than a suave, worldly man was nearly unthinkable.

"I did indeed. As a matter of fact, you handled it far better than I did at the time. My father took me on a trip to Europe when I was a little younger than you. We stayed in Paris for a few days and that's where I had the hideous experience of trying my very first cup of fish coffee. My father never let me live it down. He laughed at my expense for days." He paused for a moment. "I don't have a lot of memories like that with my dad. That was a rare thing, for us...

"Isabella, I know it was awful of me to order it without warning you beforehand, but you reminded me so much of that trip. The temptation was too great. Forgive me? Please."

Carlisle held her gaze as he shared a little piece of his past with her. In that one instant, all reminders of humiliation were wiped away from her mind. She felt blessed instead. He deemed it worthwhile to reveal something personal, something sentimental, about his life to her. That was far more than what she could ever have hoped for.

Of course he was forgiven.

"I won't tell anyone," she promised while beaming.

"Good. 'Cause you see, if you do I will have no recourse but to eliminate you. I have a reputation to protect, you know," Mr. Cullen said with mock warning, but the glint in his eyes gave away his playful intent.

Bella couldn't help but smile. "I won't, I promise."

"Good girl."

Their conversation resumed its easy pace, and he continued to inquire about her schooling and how she was faring in Child Observation and Assessment class. She survived the rest of the dinner without breaching any other table manners. Her strategy to mimic Mr. Cullen proved to be an effective one. The main entree turned out to be steak. To Jean Francoise's credit, it was indeed the best she had ever had.

By the time their evening winded down and she was being served a flaming bowl of creme brulee with coffee - _real _coffee this time - Bella realized she had divulged her entire life to the man. Not that there was much worth the reveal, but whatever little her life held was now laid bare before him. He knew everything there was to know about her, and with the exception of what he had said earlier about his father, she wasn't any the wiser about him than she was when she met him on the street that day.

It was disappointing that she couldn't get a fair shot at gathering some knowledge about Mr. Cullen in return. But as before, she reminded herself of her place. She wasn't his equal; she never would be. She was already deeply in his debt. His generosity today was above and beyond any expectations she could ever have. She oughtn't be greedy for more.

When the time came to settle the bill and leave, the notion of offering to pay for her share crossed Bella's mind, but only fleetingly. She had absolutely no idea how much her meal had cost as she recalled that the menu didn't have any prices listed. It wasn't difficult though to speculate that it was solidly outside her reach. So, she quietly sat and watched as sleek, rectangular plastic exchanged hands and a beaming server boy bowed and thanked Mr. Cullen profusely, supposedly happy with the tip.

"Shall we?" Mr. Cullen asked to indicate it was time for them to leave, and Bella followed him out to the car obediently, leaving behind the splendor that was _Euphorique_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN1: Story rec - <strong>**Downward Spiral by dragonfly336 **

**It just about killed me. Brilliantly laid out. Beware! VERY high levels of angst. But it's worth it. **

**AN2: A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98.**

**Thanks to Detochkina, EBS, and WutheringBites for all the help.**

**Thanks to those who checked out Where the Streets Have No Name. I'm most grateful.**

**Thank you for reading. Thank you for reviewing. You make my day.**


	31. Chapter 31

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of chapter 30

When the time came to settle the bill and leave, the notion of offering to pay for her share crossed Bella's mind, but only fleetingly. She had absolutely no idea how much her meal had cost as she recalled that the menu didn't have any prices listed. It wasn't difficult though to speculate that it was solidly outside her reach. So, she quietly sat and watched as sleek, rectangular plastic exchanged hands and a beaming server boy bowed and thanked Mr. Cullen profusely, supposedly happy with the tip.

"Shall we?" Mr. Cullen asked to indicate it was time for them to leave, and Bella followed him out to the car obediently, leaving behind the splendor that was _Euphorique_.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 31<strong>

**Bella, age 18**

Once inside the car, she took a last glance at the palatial structure. It seemed impossible to her already that she had actually been inside just minutes ago.

"Where would you like to be dropped off?" Carlisle asked once their car was cruising through the traffic.

Bella didn't drive to work; the high cost of parking and gas made it prohibitive. She walked to most places within reason or took the bus when the distance proved to be too discouraging. While the public transit system in Seattle left a lot to be desired, with judicious planning and patience it was at least possible to navigate the parts of the city she needed to commute to on a regular basis. But she was far from the familiar quarters and didn't know the bus routes or timetable by heart.

"Uh... anywhere is fine," she mumbled shyly, reluctant to put him out any more.

"Nonsense. I am not letting you off on a random street in a strange city. I'd be happy to take you to your home, or to your car. Whichever you prefer. So, what shall it be?" Carlisle asserted his authority over the matter just as seamlessly as he did the last time she met him. It was not up for debate.

"I didn't drive to work, so..."

"Your place it is then. Where is it that you live?" Carlisle asked.

"It's in the U district, 47th street. A few blocks from St. Jude's," Bella complied.

"That's quite a bit way from your work. Why didn't you take your car?"

Bella pondered on Mr. Cullen's propensity to ask about matters that she really didn't want to bring up, matters that were stark reminders of ways she was inferior and lacking.

"It's just that... parking is tricky, and I like to walk. Also my car is old, so I thought I'd spare the city some extra pollution and save the miles to visit home," Bella answered sheepishly.

"Is this the same car that broke down the day you came to visit me?" Carlisle prodded on.

"Yes, sir." Bella felt somewhat flustered at the mention of their last encounter. Her recollection of that day was akin to that of a roller coaster ride, with numerous high and low points.

"You've had the car fixed since then?"

"Yes, sir."

"And it's running well?"

Bella was stumped once again. Her old car that she had inherited from her father was not functioning well. In fact, when she picked it up from Rusty's bodyshop, the mechanics there gave her a long list of parts that needed to be replaced if she wanted her car to ever run reliably again. It just wasn't something she could afford on top of what they were charging her already, so she had set it aside, hoping the patch-up work would hold long enough to shuttle her to Forks and back at least a few more times.

It wasn't just the high cost of gas and parking that prevented her from using her car more frequently. There was a certain degree of willful denial that prompted her actions too; as long as the car inactively sat in its designated parking spot, she could tell herself that it was still in working order, thus there was no immediate need for her to take action. But if she took it out everyday and it broke down in the middle of Brooklyn Avenue, then there would be no way to delude herself any longer. Then she would be mid way through the semester, with no means to visit home, or any way to fix her vehicle without dipping into her precarious tuition fund.

However, she hardly thought it would be appropriate to share her childish ploy to avoid the inevitable with Mr. Cullen.

"It runs... it runs okay," she answered as she lowered her eyes. It was technically true.

"Does it really? And you are planning on driving this car to visit your parents next weekend?" Carlisle asked her with a touch of disapproval in his voice.

"Yes." Bella nodded hesitantly.

"I can't say it's a smart thing to do, planning road trips with an unreliable car. Are you aware of the risks involved? Do your parents know about your reckless plans? I doubt they would approve," he said, cocking his head in a judgmental fashion which, should Bella hadn't been as taken by everything the man stood for, might have bothered her a tad bit.

If it were anyone else who spoke to her in such a condescending manner she might have been tempted to quip back with something along the line of, _well not all of us are born with a money-tree lodged up our left nostril_. But Carlisle Cullen wasn't just anyone, and as far as Bella was concerned he could never be wrong. Thus, she apologetically made excuses for her old, rusty car.

"I... I don't drive out every weekend. Sometimes we take Alice's car. It's holding up quite well really. I'm very careful on the road." She tried to sound confident and reassuring, hating the fact that she was falling short in meeting Mr. Cullen's expectations, yet not having any other recourse to mitigate the matter.

"How often do you visit your parents?"

"I was hoping at first that I would visit every other weekend, but with my classes, and my job and the... car I... I can't really make it more than once a month," she answered.

"I go home to Forks on most weekends. I suggest that you come along with me; I'd be happy to drop you off at your house. That way you won't be subjected to driving a traffic hazard and I won't be worried about your safety. It's the perfect solution. Just let me know ahead of time which weekends you will be going," Carlisle said with his customary authority.

Bella was rendered speechless by this sudden windfall. Could she be hearing correctly? He would allow her to accompany him on his trip to Forks? She wouldn't have to worry about gas money or her car breaking down mid way. And above all, she would have yet another opportunity to be in his presence for a good four hours. There truly was no end to his generosity.

"I... I... thank you, sir. That... that's so very kind of you," Bella stammered, as her eyes lit up in unexpected hope. "But I don't want to cause any trouble for you. I mean, I know you are very busy; I don't want you to go out of your way on my account," she hastily added as it occurred to her that just because Mr. Cullen was of charitable nature didn't mean she should take advantage of it needlessly.

"Yes, you are absolutely right. I am very busy. Which is why you'll have to be ready on time. Also, I need to be in Seattle on Monday morning, so it can't be later than seven when I start back on Sunday. Do you think you can handle that?" he asked sternly.

"Yes, sir. Of course, I won't be late," Bella quickly confirmed her compliance.

"Very well. I'll have someone call you to get your schedule within the next few days. You do have a cell phone, right?"

"Uh... no, but we have a land-line..." Bella replied apologetically, reflecting back on her window shopping earlier that day, right before her serendipitous meeting with Mr. Cullen.

"You should get one. They come in handy, especially in emergencies," he said with a slight shake of his head, indicating that he wasn't particularly pleased with the matter.

Bella cursed herself for not making a purchase already, and made quick mental calculations to see if any kind of budget reshuffling would enable her to get one before her next pay day. It didn't look promising. She mumbled an apology and proceeded to pull out her note book from her back pack to jot down her house number for Mr. Cullen. But he raised his hand to dissuade her.

"Is your home number listed?" he asked.

"Yes, it is. It's under Alice's name though," she answered.

"I'll have someone look it up," he said decisively.

"Okay," she said in a small voice as she sadly took stock that they were not very far from her apartment block. They probably would arrive there in less than five minutes and this magical evening would come to an end. She tried to pull her thoughts together to make the best use of the remaining moments by conveying to Mr. Cullen what she had been meaning to say all evening in an intelligent and articulate fashion: to properly say thank you.

"Mr. Cullen," she began hesitantly, keeping her gaze lowered out of deference. "Thank you so much for the dinner, and... and for everything you have done for us over the years. I know we've... I've made mistakes in the past, and I'm really sorry for that. I promise you, we'll... I'll never do anything that can cause any problems for you. My dad and my mom, we are all really grateful for your help. I'd like you to know that it made a very big difference in our lives. And I'm... we owe it all to you..." Despite her well rehearsed efforts, Bella was mortified to realize that her voice was choking with emotions.

She felt a hot drop of tear fall on her upturned palm. She was glad that at least she had the good sense of keeping her head down while talking. She prayed that Mr. Cullen wouldn't notice her sentimental outburst and that she would be able to end the evening like a mature and coherent individual, leaving a slightly better impression than she did the last time she met the man. It wouldn't favor her image if his recollection of both the encounters consisted of her sobbing like a cry-baby.

However, before she could decide on a clever maneuver that would allow her to wipe away the tears without noticing, their car came to a stop in front of her apartment building. If she wasn't so preoccupied with tears management, she might have wondered about the fact that she had only provided the street name and the general location of her residence, not the house number. But she was sufficiently distracted and the matter didn't register on her mind at all.

"I believe we are here, Isabella," he said in a soft tone.

Realizing that she needed to exit the car, tear faced or not, Bella reached for her backpack. When she lifted her head to bid him goodbye her eyes met Mr. Cullen's intense gaze. She didn't recognize the look but she could feel its burning depth.

"Th... thank you, sir. For the evening, and for bringing me home," she began, glad that her voice didn't betray her by trembling. "Good night, sir."

She raised her hand to open the car door when Mr. Cullen motioned for her to stop.

"I am happy I could be in a position to help you, and your family." He paused. "And I am really happy that you wrote that essay, Isabella."

He held her gaze a few moments longer, then he said, "You should go in. I'll be here until you enter the building. Good night."

Bella tore her eyes away from his face and forced herself to step out to the curb. Her mind was abuzz with the parting words she had received from Mr. Cullen. She quickly made it through the glass door and turned around to see his car speeding away.

She made it up the three flights of stairs. Her steps were light though her mind was heavy as she tried to decipher what Mr. Cullen had meant.

However, her starry-eyed musings came to an abrupt halt the moment she walked into their apartment and found a very angry and very worried Alice sitting on the couch, waiting for her.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>AN1: Story rec - The War Is Over by MariahajilE<br>This will rile you up and there is a good chance you won't be happy with everything that happens in the story. But boy, it's written with super-glue type font!****

**AN2: I moved all my banner links to a blog:**  
><strong>dream - of - the - endless (dot) blogspot (dot) com**  
><strong>I sometimes post my errant thoughts there as well. Take a look. Let me know what you think.<strong>

**AN3: A huge round of thanks goes to lulabelle98.**

**Thanks to those who checked out Where the Streets Have No Name. I'm most grateful.**

**Thank you for reading. Thank you for reviewing. If I could take you all out to dinner, I would.**


	32. Chapter 32

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of chapter 31

Bella tore her eyes away from his face and forced herself to step out to the curb. Her mind was abuzz with the parting words she had received from Mr. Cullen. She quickly made it through the glass door and turned around to see his car speeding away.

She made it up the three flights of stairs. Her steps were light though her mind was heavy as she tried to decipher what Mr. Cullen had meant.

However, her starry-eyed musings came to an abrupt halt the moment she walked into their apartment and found a very angry and very worried Alice sitting on the couch, waiting for her.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 32<strong>

**Bella, age 18**

"Where have you been?" Alice asked, sounding concerned and irritated all at once.

Bella guiltily took in the outfit and make up Alice had on as she recalled the plan they had made earlier in the week to go to a social mixer taking place in one of the sorority houses. She had forgotten all about it as she allowed herself to get swept away to a utopian world when her path crossed with Carlisle Cullen.

Her mind was still reeling from everything that had transpired during that evening as her brain tried to make sense of his parting words. But she pushed down the inclination to sit in a corner and analyze them for hours to come in favor of what took precedence: her need to apologize and placate Alice.

"Oh shit! Alice, I'm so sorry. I... I was just... " Bella paused as she realized that ending the sentence with 'enjoying dinner' would only compound her crime in Alice's eyes. She would have to break it to her when Alice was in a calmer mood; with finesse and diplomacy. Now was not the time.

"Why didn't you just go ahead on your own? You didn't have to stay back for me," Bella said, deciding on deflection as her strategy of choice.

"Because, _Bella, _you have the invitations_ and _the address! Now if you had a cell phone, the one I've been begging you to get, I could have called you or you could have texted it to me! But no, you couldn't even be bothered to pick up a pay phone!" Alice stormed toward Bella as she spoke accusingly, eyes stormy with anger and lips pouting in disappointment.

"I don't get it. Why would you do something like this? You know what it's like for me. I thought things would be different now. I thought you understood that..." Anger left her voice and sadness took over as she trailed off, leaving Bella submerged in an ocean of guilt.

High school wasn't an easy experience for Alice. Her quirky personality and poor verbal filter didn't endear her to her peers. She had put in her mandatory four years either being bullied or ignored, barely hanging onto her sanity by a thread. Bella had been her lifeline in surviving the ridicule and shunning. College held the promise of a new beginning for her to meet new people and forge a social life.

Bella, ever the nurturer, felt wretched for placing her selfish fantasies ahead of her friend's needs.

"Oh, Alice... I'm _really _sorry," Bella said as she stepped closer to Alice and pulled her in a hug. "I'm such a jerk. I'll make it up to you, I promise," she added.

Alice resisted with silence.

"Listen, I screwed up, ok? I know that," Bella said as she pulled Alice toward their couch. "The boys from astronomy are doing something for Halloween; I saw a flyer in the quad yesterday. It's open to us freshmen. We could go to that one.

"What do'ya say? It will be fun!" Bella tried to salvage Alice's mood with the prospect of a bigger and better party than the one they had missed.

"Where did you see it? What's the theme?" Alice asked as she perked up a little. "I don't know..." Though she was unwilling to forgive and forget just yet.

"Come on, Alice, you like Halloween parties. You'll love it. It will be fun, I promise."

"You won't flake on me again, will you?" Alice asked as she mulled over her choices, finding it hard to hold on to a grudge against her best - her _only-_ friend.

"Of course not," Bella promised.

"Fine," Alice relented. "I'll go," she said with as exaggerated gesture of defeat.

"Yay!" Bella cheered. "I'll dig up the flyer tomorrow and we can start planning our costumes. Good thing we have plenty of time. I can borrow my mom's sewing machine next time I go home. I can help you with yours too," she volunteered enthusiastically, feeling relieved that Alice seemed to have accepted her apology.

After a few moments of amicable silence Bella reiterated softly, "I'm really sorry, Al. Forgive me?

"We could still go..." she added after stealing a quick glance at the clock. It was close to ten. Not too late for a Friday night.

"Nah, it's ok." Alice shook her head and sadly looked away into empty space. "Why don't people like me, Bella?" she said in a forlorn voice.

"Who said people don't like you? They love you!" Bella protested. "Everyone loves you."

"We both know that's not true," Alice said with sad indifference.

Bella sat upright on the couch and faced Alice as she prepared to present her counter argument. "I know no such thing and neither do you. People are just jerks sometimes. Honestly, do you even want to be friends with skanks like Vanessa?"

"It's not the same, and you know it. My Prom date was my best friend who's a girl, need I say more?" Alice laughed bitterly as she pondered that the pain of being an outcast probably wouldn't hurt so much if it weren't for the fact that she truly wanted to be included so badly.

"You are smart, kind and awesome. If people can't appreciate that, it's their problem, not yours," Bella stated.

Alice shrugged indifferently. "I thought things would be different in college, you know. Yet, look at me, still a pathetic loser."

"Alice, you are not a loser. You just..." Bella paused to consider how to put her thoughts into words that would not sound scathing and heartless. "You just need to keep your opinions to yourself sometimes," she stated carefully, hoping she wouldn't make matters worse by sounding judgemental.

"What do you mean?" Alice asked as she too sat upright and alert.

"Well..." Bella proceeded cautiously, "you don't always have to tell people what's wrong with them just because it's obvious to you."

"Huh? When did I do that?" Alice seemed honestly oblivious, just as Bella had always feared. She quickly sifted through her memory to locate a recent example to cite.

"Ok, don't be mad, but remember back when school started, we met Rick and Tran?" Bella asked.

"Yah... " Alice remembered. The two girls had met up during the orientation week to share lunch on campus when two seemingly nice boys struck up a conversation. Rick appeared to be quite taken by Alice and even exchanged phone numbers to meet up later. She had been buoyant for days in hope of his call - which never came.

"Well, did you really have to tell him that your cousin, the dentist, could fix up his chipped tooth and maybe even give him a discount?" Bella pointed out.

"But... but I was only trying to help. I thought he would..." Alice said in a perplexed voice.

"_I_ know you did. But, Alice, just think, maybe it's a sore point for him. Maybe he was hoping you wouldn't notice it. Or maybe he'd already been to a dentist and they couldn't fix it.

"Maybe you hurt his feelings without even meaning to, you know?"

Alice shook her head in denial, though Bella's words were beginning to take root.

"You think that's why he never called me?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't know, Al. But you gotta be a little mindful about what you suggest to people, know what I mean?"

"I was just trying to be helpful," Alice said with a downcast face and slightly pouting lips.

"I know that. I know _you_. I know how fabulous you are. But others don't always. You can't go around offering advice unless people ask for it.

"Sometimes people don't like to hear things they don't _want _to," Bella emphasized.

Alice frowned and moped for some time as the weight of her friend's words began to settle on her mind.

"Is that what I am? A meddlesome bitch? Damn, man! That sucks balls," she finally said. "Kick me next time you catch me at it, okay? I can't go through another four years of the same old same old."

"I promise," Bella replied with a smile, pleased that she managed to defuse a potentially volatile situation with poise and wits.

"So, what do you wanna do now? Watch TV?" Bella proposed.

"We could," Alice agreed lukewarmly. "But you know what will be really fun? Drinking beer while watching TV! You want one?" she said with excitement in her voice.

"We have beer? How the hell did you score beer? They didn't card you?" Bella wanted to know.

"The old lady on the ground floor, Mrs. Gunnerson. I walked her three giant dogs and helped her with carrying the groceries. She gave me a case." Alice beamed.

"She paid you in alcohol? Seriously? No way!" Bella was rightfully impressed.

"I know, right?" Alice giggled as she jumped up to fetch the beer in question. "I had one while waiting for you, but we still have five left."

Alice came back with two bottles and handed one to Bella.

"Cheers," they said as they both took a swig, delighted to experience yet another milestone of adulthood: being able to drink alcohol without having to look over their shoulders.

"Still awful," Bella said as she crunched her nose in disgust after the first sip. It wasn't the first time they had tasted beer. On a couple of occasions they did manage to steal a sample from Alice's dad or the diner where Bella worked. She thought it tasted atrocious then. Apparently, she hadn't yet acquired an appetite for the popular beverage still.

"Well, chug it down and get used to it. Bet this stuff will be flowing at the Halloween party. You don't want the boys to think you're a baby. Bottoms up," Alice pointed out as she gulped down a big swig for good measure to prove her point.

Alice's words prompted Bella to recall the grape juice incident at dinner. A renewed sense of shame colored her cheeks as despair replaced the delightful mood they had forged. Mr. Cullen thought of her as a child; a fate worse than death, she deemed.

Her face fell and she lowered the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"What's wrong?" Alice's noticed the shift in Bella's demeanor.

"Nothing," Bella said in a not so convincing way, fooling no one.

"A-ha, really? Spill it, Bella. I know when you're lying. This wouldn't have anything to do with you pulling a vanishing act on me today, would it?"

Bella pondered how to answer the question. She never intended to keep her evening a secret from Alice. She just wanted to wait until her friend got over her anger for being stood up. Now that she seemed to be in better spirits, Bella decided this was as good time as any to tell Alice about her magical encounter with Carlisle Cullen.

"Well, sorta. But you won't believe it even if I told you. Guess who I ran into today after work?"

Over the next hour Bella recounted her experience to Alice, gushing and squealing at appropriate points.

"Shut up! _Euphorique_? The place from the guide book?" Alice questioned disbelievingly.

"Yes, I know! I still can't believe it," Bella confirmed.

"Then what happened?"

Bella unburdened her soul to Alice, not even leaving out the bits about her mortification over the grape juice and the lobster bisque cappuccino.

When she was done, she asked for Alice's input. "What do you think he meant by that, Al? 'I'm glad you wrote the essay?' He was so angry about it before, but then he said something like that. I don't know what to make of it. What do you think?"

Alice was thoughtful for a moment. "He's hitting on you, of course."

Bella shook her head in vehement denial. "No way. That's... that's _totally_ impossible."

"Bella, just look at the facts: he's stalking you at your place of work-"

"He is _not_ stalking me. We just ran into each other." Bella felt compelled to set her straight.

"-He tells you that you smell good, takes you to the fanciest restaurant in the state, and then drops a bombshell by saying he's glad he met you, cause that's the only logical explanation for his cryptic bullshit I can think of," Alice said as she frowned slightly.

"And he wants you to ride with him to Forks, which will give him four solid hours of drool time when you'll have no means of getting away," she added with displeasure. "What do'ya know? Grandpa's got a crush on you," she mocked, reverting back to the moniker she had coined for the man a while back, knowing full well it would irk Bella.

"Shut up! That's not true! You are wrong, he's not like that." Bella assumed her natural defense stance. "And don't call him _that_! It's disrespectful."

"Well, what makes him so high and mighty? If he acts like a jerk, he deserves to be called out on it!" Alice refused to back down.

"He never acted like a jerk! What are you talking about? And he's done plenty to earn our respect. You're the one who's being a jerk now!" Bella lashed back.

"_Nothing_ wrong? A man his age getting all slime-ball on you is not wrong? In what universe is that right? And if you can't see that then you're delusional. You have to stay away from him, Bells. When he or 'his people' calls you to ask about your plans, just tell them you are not going. You hear me?" Alice asserted her opinion on the matter with strong footed confidence.

"First, he is _not_ hitting on me. And second, even if he was, which he isn't, why would that be a crime? He is _not _that old. Age is not everything. He's an amazing human being. Him offering to give me a ride home is an act of kindness, not something sick and perverted like you're making it out to be. It's not a crime to be thoughtful. Or are you just mad 'cause I forgot about the stupid party? Well, it's my fault then, not his. Why do you always put him down like that? What did he ever do to you?" Bella was visibly worked up and her voice was registering above what could be construed as normal.

Alice hated to upset Bella and tended to pick her battles carefully, but she felt this one warranted intervention, even if it meant risking Bella's ire. "Is he really that amazing, Bells? _Really_? To me he sounds like a heartless bully who likes to play with people's feelings just because he can. He gets his kicks at the expense of the little people, those who are not in a position to return the favor, instead of picking on someone his own size."

"No, he doesn't-" began Bella.

"Yes, he does!" Alice didn't let Bella finish. "The prank he pulled on you with the pukey-coffee? Who does that? There's nothing 'thoughtful' about that. What kind of a man makes fun of someone for not being born with a silver spoon in their mouth? And are you forgetting how he treated you when you went to meet him that other time?"

Bella hadn't forgotten anything about the two encounters. However, her recollection of the events differed from Alice's interpretation so vastly that she couldn't even begin to present a counter argument.

"That's... that's _not_ how it happened. You weren't even there. You are just twisting everything to make them seem sinister and evil. Yes, he was angry when I went to meet him, but he treated me with kindness and respect. Both times. And tonight, he apologized about the coffee thing. He explained and told me about his life and that's... that means something, Alice. You are just choosing to look at everything in the worst possible way."

"It's 'cause I care about you Bella. You just told me that I give unsolicited advice to people. Well, I can see you don't want it, but you are not Rick, or any other random person. I care about you. I will tell you even if you don't want to hear it. This guys is bad news. A man his age shouldn't say the things he does or act that way around a girl who's young enough be his daughter. If you don't think I'm making sense then ask your parents. See what Renee says." Alice felt quite satisfied with the cogent and airtight argument she had made, but only for a second.

"Alice." Bella's voice fell noticeably as she hissed out the words, telling Alice that she had made a big mistake by using Renee as a weapon in this battlefield. "Don't you dare bring my mom or my dad into this. I know what I'm doing and I'm old enough to make my own decisions. If you can't be happy for me, well then, that's fine by me. But if you drag my mother into this and make her worry over nothing, I swear I'll never speak to you again. They have enough worries to last a life time, they don't need more. Do you understand me?"

Alice cringed under the icy glare Bella fixed her with.

"Bella..." Alice tried in a timid voice to placate her friend.

"No, you listen, Alice. I'm sorry you can't see past some ridiculous notion that you have drawn up in your head about a man you haven't even met. You don't have to like Mr. Cullen, and you don't have to agree with me. But you do have to respect my decisions and those who matter to me. I think I've earned it.

"If you want us to be friends, that is."

With those ominous words, Bella stood up and strode away to her room, slamming the door shut for good measure.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>AN1: Today marks the 1 year anniversary of Beautiful Sorrow. I can't believe it's been that long. Hell, I can't believe some of you are still here! It's been a very interesting journey for me. Some good, some bad. Some spectacular, some heartbreaking. Thank you for being a part of it.<strong>**

****I need to thank Lulabelle98 for being with me from the very beginning. I can't do it without her. Literally!****

****I need to thank BellaScotia for being who she is. The wisdom and kindness you showed me is something I will always be grateful for. Thank you, Kat. Human cloning couldn't get here fast enough. Every new writer needs you!****

****AN2: Story rec - What If by WhatIfThingsWereDifferent  
>Edward made a terrible mistake - twice! Can he find his way back to grace again and be part of Bella and their son's life? I sure hope so!<strong>**

****AN3: ********Thank you for reading. Thank you for reviewing. I'm here because of you.****


	33. Chapter 33

**The story deals with adult subject matter and occasional description of explicit sexual abuse. Not meant for underage readers. Read at your own peril. And oh, Twilight belongs to SM. This is just a fanfiction.**

**Beautiful Sorrow**

End of chapter 32

"Bella..." Alice tried in a timid voice to placate her friend.

"No, you listen, Alice. I'm sorry you can't see past some ridiculous notion that you have drawn up in your head about a man you haven't even met. You don't have to like Mr. Cullen, and you don't have to agree with me. But you do have to respect my decisions and those who matter to me. I think I've earned it.

"If you want us to be friends, that is."

With those ominous words, Bella stood up and strode away to her room, slamming the door shut for good measure.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 33<strong>

**Bella, age 18**

Alice sat frozen on the couch for several minutes, unable to gather her wits enough to settle upon her immediate course of action.

Bella had occupied a constant place in her life since they had met in kindergarten. The sense of propriety they felt over one another was well earned and firmly grounded in time. They had survived through disagreements and banters, arguments and debates, but not once did the durability of their friendship ever come into question.

Until now.

Alice had a gut feeling that Carlisle Cullen would mean ruin for Bella. She wasn't quite sure how she knew this or why she was so certain about her presumptions, but she felt compelled to steer Bella away from the path of this formidable man. She knew how predisposed Bella already was to his considerable charm and influence. Once embroiled, she wouldn't stand a chance to extricate herself from his intricate, shiny web.

Alice wanted Bella to be safe, but was the effort worth putting their friendship on the line? After all, how could she be so certain that Carlisle Cullen was a bad man? What evidence did she have other than her hunch? Bella had placed him on a very high pedestal. As Bella's best friend, shouldn't she at least try to give the man the benefit of the doubt? Maybe she had gone about expressing her reservation in a very wrong way. She had never seen Bella this angry before. She felt scared and unsettled. She needed to make things right.

Setting aside the unfinished beer bottle, she walked over to Bella's room. She rapped her knuckles on the door.

"Bella, can I come in?"

No one answered from inside.

"I'm coming in, okay?"

Alice tentatively opened the door to find Bella sitting on her bed, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, looking livid as ever.

Cautiously, Alice approached the bed and sat down facing Bella.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't really gonna call Renee. I... I did it all wrong. Please don't be mad, Bells," she said softly.

Bella didn't respond as she maintained her rigid posture, refusing to look Alice in the eyes.

"Come on, Bella. Don't be like this," Alice pleaded.

Bella took a deep breath as she slowly raised her gaze. "You don't have to like everything I do, but you can't go about rattling me out to my parents, Al. They don't need to worry about me. Okay?"

"I know. I was never going to. I just... I wasn't thinking straight. You know me. Like you said, I always speak before I think. I'll do better. I was just worried about you," Alice said apologetically.

Bella nodded slowly, acknowledging Alice's apology.

"I know. I appreciate that, but you really have no reason to be. I don't know why you are so dead-set on hating the man, but Mr. Cullen really is very nice. I just don't like the way you trash him for no good reason."

Alice swallowed back the defiant words that threatened to spill out in protest of Bella's claim. It would serve no purpose other than igniting another fight between them.

"You really believe that, don't you?" Alice asked instead.

"Yes, I do. And if you ever meet him, then you'd know it too," Bella said with conviction.

"And you trust him?" Alice questioned.

"Yes, I do."

Alice closed her eyes and took a deep breath, making up her mind that she would at least try to see the man as her friend did.

"That's good enough for me then," Alice said with a smile. "After all, I happen to know how great your taste is in picking friends." She winked.

"That I do." Bella smiled widely as the storm clouds began to clear away from her face.

The girls sat quietly in amicable silence, both glad that they were friends again.

"So, you'll still go to Forks with him?" Alice asked hesitantly, making sure her voice didn't give away her reservations.

"Yah." Bella nodded as she considered her answer. "I mean, if someone really calls to set it up like he said. Maybe he was just being nice, you know. Maybe he'll forget all about it by Monday. But if he remembers and still wants me to ride with him, I'll go."

Alice didn't bother to convince her to change her mind this time.

"Just promise me that you'll be careful."

"Always am, Al, always am," Bella assured her; she was nothing if not sensible.

"How about more beer?" Alice asked after a while, and they both jumped off of the bed to pick up their evening where it was left off before the argument erupted.

For Bella, the next few days progressed much like the ones before, with classes, course work, and manning the perfume counter at _Blossoms_. No one had tried to contact her about her impending trip home the coming weekend. She had checked the voicemail machine to make sure it ran without a hitch, and tried not to feel disappointed that Mr. Cullen would make an offer only to forget all about it so soon.

She was pleasantly proven wrong on Wednesday when the phone rang a few minutes before four, mere seconds after she had returned home from the campus.

"Hello."

_"Could I speak to Miss Swan please? Miss Isabella Swan," _said a perfectly polished female voice.

"That's me..." Bella said.

_"I'm Amanda calling from the Cullen Corps to coordinate your pick up this weekend. Are you still planning on going to Forks on Saturday, Miss Swan?"_

"Uh... yes, yes I am, if it's no trouble..."

_"You'll be picked up at seven in the morning. Is that acceptable to you?"_ the woman called Amanda asked.

"That's fine, I'll be ready at seven. Do you need my address or directions?"

_"No thank you, Miss Swan, that wouldn't be necessary. The return trip will be at seven PM on Sunday. If your plans change, please inform the driver,"_ the no-nonsense voice continued.

"Of course, I will. Though I don't think anything will change..." Bella was finally catching up to the reality that Mr. Cullen had followed through on his promise. She was elated and nervous, wondering if Mr. Cullen was nearby and if it would be appropriate for her to ask if she could speak with him.

However, before she could gather up the courage to ask, Amanda brought their conversation to an end.

_"Splendid. Have a pleasant trip, Miss Swan. And have a nice day."_

Bella floated around the rest of the evening, unable to concentrate on anything - including dinner which she burned - in anticipation of her upcoming car ride with Carlisle Cullen.

She pledged not to fall asleep this time, or speak in half sentences.

Of course, Mr. Cullen might prefer to be left alone or read, in which case she wouldn't want to disturb him.

Would he even talk to her?

She was scared and excited, and couldn't wait for the week to be over. She wished she had the presence of mind to ask for the phone number when Amanda called. That way she could call up and hear his voice, perhaps in the guise of reconfirming their trip.

Bella feared that Alice might launch another diatribe to dissuade her from going on this trip, or worse, offer to come along. The thought of Alice opening her mouth and saying something disrespectful to the man was a fearsome concept that she was determined to prevent at all cost. Thankfully, Alice took the news surprisingly well and kept her opinions to herself, hidden behind lukewarm smiles.

By Friday, Bella conceded defeat to her nerves and simply gave up on all efforts to appear calm and collected. She could hardly stand still in one spot while at work, raising eyebrows and coughs of disapproval from her supervisors. At home she had packed and repacked her small overnight bag to make sure it didn't look too ungainly for the trunk of Mr. Cullen's car.

Alice brought her some chamomile tea to tame her anxiety and sat her down on the bed next to the packed duffel bag Bella was to take with her the next morning.

Alice waited for Bella to take a few sips before she opened her mouth.

"Bella, you know, if you are this anxious about the whole deal you can just cancel it. It's not worth having a panic attack over."

"No! I am not canceling on Mr. Cullen. Plus, I'm not anxious at all. I... I just want to make a good impression... besides, I don't have his number. How am I suppose to cancel?" Bella vehemently rejected the proposition.

Alice nodded in acceptance. She didn't expect to be able to make Bella change her mind this late in the game, but it was worth a shot.

"In that case, just promise me one thing..." she said meaningfully as she reached behind her to produce a small plastic bag with a tube shaped object inside. She held it up for Bella to take. "Promise me you'll be careful, and that you'll carry this with you in your purse at all times."

"What is it?" Bella asked, curious to receive an unexpected present from Alice.

"Open it."

Bella carefully pulled out the content of the bag and was shocked to see that it was a pink can of pepper spray.

"Wh... what? Alice, what's wrong with-" Bella began to protest as the meaning behind Alice's present became clear.

"Just keep it with you, okay? I won't say anything bad or disrespectful about him, just promise me you'll keep it on you the entire time. Please," Alice stated forcefully as she beseeched Bella.

Bella wanted to refuse to take the can with her, but the look of sincere concern on Alice's convinced her to acquiesce.

"Fine, I will, but just so you know, I think you are being absolutely ridiculous," Bella said with disdain.

"I don't care what you think, as long as you promise me you'll be careful. Another thing, call me as soon as you get home. And I mean right away, okay?" Alice pressed the point home, wagging her finger.

"I will," Bella promised, feeling disgruntled yet blessed that she had a friend who cared this much about her safety.

She had very little sleep that night and was up long before the alarm could wake her. She hurriedly went through her morning ritual and tiptoed around the kitchen to forage for breakfast without disturbing Alice.

She gathered all of her things and went downstairs to wait on the curb well before seven to make sure that no time was wasted on her account when Mr. Cullen came to pick her up. She sat down on the edge of the pavement and forced her legs from being restless and jumpy.

Sharp at seven, she saw a sleek, silver car turn the corner and pull up next to her.

Yet another car, she mused.

She jumped up to greet Carlisle Cullen as the well dressed driver came around the car to hold the door to the back seat open for her.

"Good morning, Miss Swan. My name is Ronald and I work for Mr. Cullen. I'm here to drive you to Forks and back. Please let me know if you need us to stop along the way, or make any detours," he said with professional politeness.

"Uh... thank you," she greeted back, unsure of what exactly the protocol demanded in such situations.

"Let me take that, Miss Swan," Ronald said as he took the small duffel bag from her hand and tucked it away in the car's trunk.

Bella couldn't see the interior of the car, but she didn't hesitate to give him her luggage and climb into the backseat. As Ronald shut the door behind her and began to maneuver the car to merge into traffic, she realized that she was the only passenger in the vehicle. Mr. Cullen wasn't there.

She was confused. Could it be that he wanted to be picked up last so he didn't have to wake up as early?

As their car began to speed away from the city, her conjecture seemed less and less likely.

"Mr. Ronald..." Bella attempted to gain his attention. But the man didn't react to her voice.

"Uh... Mr. Ronald..." Bella tried again fruitlessly.

There was a transparent divider that separated the back cab of the car from the driver's side. Bella wondered if it was soundproof. She frantically looked for a button or a switch to remove it so she could speak to the driver. After several minutes of searching, she located a button on the far right. The divider lowered soundlessly when she pressed down on it.

"Uh... Mr. Ronald, I was just wondering, I thought Mr. Cullen was going to Forks today as well. Are you picking him up from somewhere else?" Bella asked.

"I only have orders to drive you to Forks and back, Miss Swan. I haven't received any instructions regarding Mr. Cullen's itinerary," was all Ronald had to contribute.

Bella sank back into the soft, plush seat and surrendered to disappointment. She wanted to laugh at all the speculations Alice had made about Mr. Cullen hitting on her. What a ridiculous notion.

Of course, he never saw her that way. What was she thinking? She was nothing but a poor, small-town girl, with no sophistication or beauty. Why would a man like Carlisle Cullen even spare a single thought about her? He was only being charitable when he treated her to a scrumptious dinner at a fancy restaurant, or offered to allow his car to drive her home to Forks. None of it held any hidden meaning. She was a fool to have assumed otherwise.

A few errant tears slipped past her eyelids and she hastily pressed the switch to reinstate the partition between her and Ronald. She didn't want him to see or hear her cry. There was only so much humiliation her little heart could take.

The hours dragged on. Ronald asked her once about rest-stop needs through an intercom system Bella didn't know existed. She grumpily said she didn't need one, unless of course Ronald needed a break. He didn't say a word in return but he didn't stop the car anywhere either.

As the car approached the outskirts of Forks, a new thought began to plague Bella. How would she explain the strange car to her parents? Like Alice had pointed out, hearing about Mr. Cullen's kind offer would only cause Renee to question his motive. Was there any need for that? Clearly Mr. Cullen had no designs on her. It was better not to give her parents a reason to fret needlessly.

She looked for the intercom button to re-establish communication with Ronald, and once she found it, she called through the system. "Mr. Ronald, I need to visit someone before I go home. I'd like you to drop me off at the corner of Pine Street, if that's okay."

"Sure, Miss Swan."

"And maybe you could pick me up from the same spot tomorrow?" Bella stated, though it came out sounding more like a question as if she was seeking permission.

"Anything you say, Miss Swan."

They had soon reached their destination, and Ronald pulled over the car by the side of the street. He jumped out in lightening speed and rounded the car before she could open the door herself.

He handed her the duffel bag and offered to carry it for her to the place she needed to visit, which she politely declined.

"Thank you, Mr. Ronald. I really appreciate you driving me home today. Have a wonderful day," Bella said in goodbye.

"It's my job, Miss Swan. Should I pick you up from the same spot tomorrow at seven?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be perfect, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow then," Bella said as she began to turn away when Ronald interrupted her.

"Miss Swan, before you go, I've been asked to give you this once you arrived safely," he said as he retrieved a small, rectangular box from the front seat.

"What is it?" Bella asked curiously, as she took the box from Ronald's outstretched hand.

"It's a cell phone. It has my number programmed already under 'Car Service'. If you change your plans, or need to leave earlier or later, just text or call me."

"Uh... thank you," was all Bella could say as Ronald got back inside the car and drove away.

Bella was left dumbfounded, staring at the box in hand. Another token of generosity. She recalled Mr. Cullen's displeasure at her not owning one. That must be why he was giving it to her, because she was poor. What else could she be for him other than the recipient of one charitable gesture after another?

She tucked the box in her bag and began the two block trek toward her parents' home. Like the Friday night a week ago, her heart was heavy. But unlike that night, now her mind was mired in pain of being rejected and for being insignificant.

The warm welcoming hugs she received from her mother eased her anguish to some extent as it pulled her down to her reality. Being back with her family reminded her of who she was and her place in life. As she helped Renee prepare dinner, she managed to shake away the rose-tinted glasses she had donned the night she dined at _Euphorique._ Her mother's chatter and her father's quiet presence grounded her the way Alice's strongly voiced objections couldn't.

She remembered to call Alice, as promised, to let her know that she had safely arrived, then busied herself with house chores and keeping Charlie company.

At dinner time, Renee asked about her car and if they had driven Alice's car to Forks instead. Bella fidgeted a little and then managed to mutter something about a car-pool program she was participating in. She didn't know how convincing she was, so she hastily moved the conversation along to safer waters by prattling on about school and her new job.

It wasn't until bed time when she went to retrieve her toothbrush from the duffel bag that she pulled out the box containing the cell phone. She sat down on the floor of her childhood room and toyed with the package, disappointment stinging her eyes. She told herself that it wasn't befitting for her to feel indignant over being treated as charity; after all, she had survived on the man's kindness without much compunction thus far. She needed to suck it up and be grateful instead of sulking. Her gaze fell on the pink can of pepper spray Alice had given her the night before, and the ludicrousness of the situation actually managed to put a smile on her face.

She finally opened the box to check out its content. It was probably a used set Mr. Cullen was handing down to her instead of throwing away, she guessed. She didn't take offense; it was a good reminder of where she stood. However, the silver-blue device that lay within looked brand new and even came with a user manual. The small booklet had "RIM Blackberry" written on it.

_Looks new._

She wished she knew what kind of subscription came with the phone and which service provider was covering it. She turned the phone around and felt its cool weight in her palm. She liked it. She wondered how soon she would be able to use it. She recalled Alice had to charge her phone for eight full hours before it was ready for use. Maybe she ought to put it on the charger right away.

Out of curiosity however, she pressed down on the power button of the phone, and much to her surprise, it came to life. The battery bar showed it was fully charged.

_Of course, Ronald said his number was already saved in its memory._

Bella found it curious that Mr. Cullen not only got her a phone but had someone make it user-ready for her too. Another gesture of kindness.

She smiled. The thoughtfulness of Mr. Cullen's actions took away much of the sting of rejection she had felt throughout that day.

Forgetting to brush her teeth, she went to bed with the phone and the user manual, meaning to familiarize herself with her new toy.

She clicked around the tiny, colorful icons to figure out their purpose, until she came upon the contact list. Just as Ronald had said, she found a number under "Car Service". She was about to click away to explore the next icon when she noticed something else.

Her breath hitched in her chest.

"Car Service" wasn't the only number listed in her contacts list.

Bella's mouth went dry as she kept looking at the dimly-lit screen of her phone with utter disbelief. There, listed under C, were three other entries.

Carlisle (cell)

Carlisle (home)

Carlisle (email)

An avalanche of confusion slammed into her brain, causing her heart to beat out of her chest. She was back to being just as confused and unsure as she was last Friday night. Only this time she didn't have Alice to rudely shake her back to the concrete reality.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>AN1: I suck at multi-tasking. You have my deepest apologies. If Sami69 and writtenbyabdex didn't kick my butt, I probably wouldn't think about updating even today. I honestly can't wait to finish WtSHNN so I can return to my baby and devote my complete attention to it. <strong>**

**AN2: I've learned that my OS Forgive Me Not got nominated at the Eclipse Award in the Best Angst category. A ton of great stuff are nominated there. Voting will be open until the 19h. I hope you'll check out the stories and vote for the one that you love the most.**

**twilighteclipseawards (dot) blogspot (dot) ca / p / vote (dot) html**

**I'm curious to know what you think of Forgive Me Not even if you don't vote for me. So, hope you'll take a look. It's pretty short and won't take too long to skim.**

**AN3: ****I need to thank Lulabelle98 for being all-round awesome. Check out her stories. ******

**AN4: Story rec - A Broken Hallelujah by VirginiaMay**

**It's a beautiful tale of Edward and Bella slowly finding their way back to each other after their relationship ended on quite a traumatic note. I absolutely adore the story. You will too! Just give it a shot. **

**Thank you for reading. Thank you for reviewing. Where will I be without you?**


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